Citizen X
by Miesque
Summary: Dr. Luka Kovac becomes involved with a murder investigation.
1. Default Chapter

TITLE: Citizen X (Part 1/?)  
AUTHOR: Miesque  
DISCLAIMER: The characters from "ER" are the sole property of NBC, Amblin Entertainment and Warner Bros. They are only being used in this fanfiction series for entertainment purposes and no profit is being made by the author. Sadly enough.   
RATING: PG-13 (mild language)  
SETTING: End of season seven  
CATEGORY: Luka Kovac/original character; drama, mystery, romance, blah blah blah...  
ARCHIVE: If you must  
SPOILERS: For season seven & eight   
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to Ellen Hursh for feedback and suggestions.  
  
===============  
  
Det. Sky Krasuljak drummed her fingers impatiently on the front desk, watching as the dangerously-clad brunette clerk talked on the telephone. The woman, to Sky's thinking, looked  
like a character out of 'The Story of O', with only slightly better fashion sense. She was also downright rude. Sky decided to be a little more forceful. She opened her wallet and flashed her badge. "Hello? I'm Detective Krasuljak. I need to speak to a Doctor Kerry...Weaver."  
  
"Can ya hold on a minute?"  
  
"No, I cannot hold on a minute."  
  
"Really? You've already held on for five. I think a few more minutes won't hurt. Go siddown."  
  
"Listen! I need to speak to Doctor Weaver regarding a criminal investigation. Tell her to come out here *now*."  
  
"She is with a patient. You will sit. Now."  
  
Sky drew in her breath and straightened her shoulders. "You do realize you're dealing with a police officer, right?"  
  
The brunette rolled her eyes. "I've dealt with more than my fair share of police officers. They come in here all the time. And they all seem to be capable of waiting a few minutes while a doctor deals with a patient."  
  
Sky was not, by nature, a patient woman. Something about being forced to wait for *anything* made her furious. Angrily, she brushed her dark hair back and turned her back on the desk clerk. But she refused to sit down. Instead, she paced.   
  
She was tall-almost 5'10"-and very slim, with dark hair that she kept tied back in a pony-tail, but her bangs tended to get loose and fall in her face. She wore horn-rimmed glasses, very little makeup, no jewelry, and tended to dress in jeans and comfortable blouses, along with the standard detective's duster. Sort of like the one Colombo wore. She had loved watching "Colombo" as a child. She wore that duster like a badge of honor-she had worked long and hard to become a detective with the Chicago PD. All her brothers were cops. Her father and grandfather had been cops. Her mother's family were all either cops or priests. It had been her destiny to be a cop.  
  
Of course, with all that "destiny" came a degree of solitude. But hell, Sky thought, I can deal with solitude. Being destined for the police force had meant she grew up fighting with her brothers, developing strong muscles and quick reflexes. She could hit as hard, run as fast, cuss a blue streak and...well, it wasn't like she did a lot of dating anyway. Who has time for something so frivolous, anyway? And Sky was anything but frivolous. She didn't even own a dress. The only frivolous thing about her was her name.  
  
"Detective..." The brunette looked down at the card and took a stab at it. "Craa-ker-jack?"  
  
"Krasuljak," she corrected angrily. Sky stood up. "Krass-ool-yak."  
  
"Oh. How *pretty*," the brunette said with a fake smile. "Doctor Weaver can see ya now. She's in the lounge." She jabbed her thumb behind her toward a door that said "Staff Only".  
Sky grabbed her bag and headed into the room, refusing to look back at the snickering brunette. She had been called 'Cracker Jack' during police training, and it still annoyed her.   
  
===============  
  
Kerry was exhausted and in no mood to deal with a detective. Particulary this rather umkempt-looking detective. She already had a splitting headache. Carter had come in late. Jing-Mei had had to leave early. Luka, her most trusted ally, wasn't coming in 'til later. It was strange how difficult it was for Kerry to cope when Luka wasn't around. She managed. But he was like a shield for her. A wall of protection. "Can I help you?"  
  
"Yes. I wanted to talk to you about one of your staff members."  
  
Kerry poured herself some coffee and wondered what Dave had done *now*. Or was it Randi? "All right. But make it quick. I don't have much time for this break, and I was really hoping for a quick na-"  
  
"Does a Doctor Luka Kovac work here?"  
  
"Yes..."  
  
"I was wondering if you could tell me a little about him. I may also need to see his personnel files, his employment and immigration records, et cetera."  
  
"Why?" Kerry was horrified. This can't be real, she thought. Hasn't that poor man been kicked around enough? First Carol, then Abby...a police investigation should make his world an even *happier* place.  
  
"It's part of a criminal investigation."  
  
"Oh? Has he done something wrong?"  
  
"I don't know, ma'am. I just need to ask a few questions of you, then speak with him. Do you know much about him?"  
  
"Not...really. He keeps to himself, usually." Kerry felt sick to her stomach and poured her coffee into the sink. "He's a very private person."  
  
"Yes. A loner, is he?"  
  
"Yes. Is that a crime?"  
  
"No, it isn't. But it does fit a certain profile, doesn't it?"  
  
"What sort of profile?" Kerry asked warily. "Are you saying he may be some kind of..."  
  
"There's been a series of murders in the Croatian community," Sky said, keeping her voice neutral. "We're investigating various leads. A witness...and I'll admit, this witness is hardly what I'd call reliable...said that she saw a Dr. Luka Kovac in the general area shortly after one of the murders. I'm not saying he did it. But it's something we have to investigate. All leads must be sniffed out, so to speak, right?"  
  
"So you're going to come here, corner him, and expose him to the ridicule and suspicion of his colleagues? Why can't you talk to him in a more...private situation? I'm sure he'll be very cooperative if you give him some legroom. Like I said, Luka-Dr. Kovac-is a very private person. Even a little shy. It would be a terrible mistake to just suddenly jump out and start asking him about what he was doing in that area at a certain time on a certain day and then drop 'Oh, by the way, we think you're a murderer' on him, wouldn't it?"  
  
Sky studied the short redhead with interest. Was Kovac involved with this Dr. Weaver? "How close are you and Dr. Kovac?"  
  
"We're not very close," Kerry said. "But I can say with absolute certainty that he is one of the kindest men around."  
  
"'Kind', huh? He killed a mugger with his bare hands some months ago, didn't he?"  
  
"Yes, and it devastated him. Most murderers, particularly serial murderers, wouldn't be too shook up about that, now would they?"  
  
"He was 'devastated'? How so?" Sky asked.   
  
"That's really not your business. But he had a very normal reaction to the situation. A very normal and human reaction."  
  
"Did he ever seek counselling?"  
  
"Not that I'm aware of," Kerry said. "But I don't tend to follow him around. His private life is his own, isn't it? I can't chase the attendings around, asking them if they're okay. I wish I could. But I can't. But Luka is still an excellent doctor and a very decent man."  
  
"Doctor Weaver, it's nothing personal. I'm merely doing my investigation."  
  
"Nothing personal? Right. It's never personal to *you*. But it's personal to the person it's happening to. And so here he is, a man from another country being accused of crimes he didn't commit. He's already got people at this hospital who hate him simply because he's foreign. You'll ruin his reputation and his career and it's 'nothing personal'."  
  
"That's a little harsh, Doctor Weaver."  
  
"But true!" Kerry snapped. "I hear what people say about Luka already. If he's a serial killer, he does a pretty damned bad job of covering it up, because there's already plenty of self-righteous little prigs here who call him all sorts of nasty names behind his back and think they're so damned clever. Of course, being clever would imply being able to think of a different joke every now and then."  
  
"Wow, I really pushed a button on you, didn't I? Like I said, Doctor, my investigation is merely that-an investigation. I happen to believe, very strongly, in 'innocent until proven guilty'. And I'm almost sure that Doctor Kovac is innocent. He would be a pretty poor candidate for 'serial killer', after all. Just too easy. So while you're accusing me of being a racist and a cold-hearted, emotionless crusader, you might stop and consider my surname. Krasuljak. Which is Croatian. So I'm already a little...biased in my opinion. Just as you are."  
  
"I'm not biased!" Kerry snapped. "I'm merely defending a friend."  
  
"You said you weren't very close to him."  
  
"We're still friends. He doesn't let anyone very close."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Life hasn't exactly been kind to Luka."  
  
"Ah. Life isn't kind to anybody, is it? But I'm just doing my job. Which is to track down a serial killer and get him behind bars. If that means asking questions and possibly even putting innocent people under scrutiny, so be it. I'll do whatever it takes to save a life. Rather like what you do for a living, huh?"  
  
Sky was pleased to see Dr. Weaver blanch a bit. She nodded curtly. "When can I see Doctor Kovac?"  
  
"He...he doesn't get on 'til six tonight."  
  
"I'll be back, then. It was very nice to meet you, Doctor."  
  
"Yeah. Whatever," the redhead snarled. "I'm sure he'll be delighted to meet you!"  
  
  
To be continued... 


	2. Citizen X (Part 2)

TITLE: Citizen X (Part 2/?)  
AUTHOR: Miesque  
DISCLAIMER: The characters from "ER" are the sole property of NBC, Amblin Entertainment and Warner Bros. They are only being used in this fanfiction series for entertainment purposes and no profit is being made by the author. Sadly enough.   
RATING: PG-13 (mild language, sexual situations)  
SETTING: End of season seven  
CATEGORY: Luka Kovac/original character; drama, mystery, romance, blah blah blah...  
ARCHIVE: If you must  
SPOILERS: For season seven & eight   
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to Ellen Hursh for feedback and suggestions.  
  
===============  
  
"Luka?"  
  
"Mmmph...?"  
  
"Wake up, mon cher. Breakfast is here."  
  
He sat up slowly and reached for his jeans. He glanced up at Juliette, glad that she wasn't fully dressed just yet. Getting her in a state of undress, last night, had been particularly enjoyable, after all. He gave her another appreciative look as she bent to pull on her jeans.   
  
"Okay. Let him in. You got my waffles, right?"  
  
"Certainement!"  
  
"Thanks." He gave her a wide grin and watched her swish over to the door. She had quite the sexiest walk he'd ever seen. No wonder falling into a simple affair with her had been so easy. She demanded little of him, yet enjoyed his company, appreciated him and didn't treat him like dirt. All in all, he simply *liked* her.  
  
"Room service. Morning, Dr. Kovac. Uh...Juliette." The room service guy-Mike-gave Juliette an appreciative look, too, which Luka noticed and made a noise over. Mike remembered Kovac's old girlfriend-the rather frumpy, sour-puss of a woman the doc had been with for a long time. "Waffles, scrambled eggs, sausage and French toast, as ordered."  
  
"Thanks, Mike. You can go now."   
  
Mike grinned and accepted his tip, then left. Yeah, that blonde Frenchwoman was a hell of a lot better looking and a lot *nicer* than whatsername. The hotel chambermaids had given her the snide nickname of 'Flabby Blackheart', after all.   
  
"When do you have to be at work again, mon cher?" Juliette asked, pulling on her socks.   
  
"Six."  
  
"Oh." She pouted prettily. "When do you get off?"  
  
"Nine tomorrow morning, if I'm lucky."  
  
"Shall I pick you up?" she asked, standing and circling her arms around his waist. "I always miss you when you're gone."   
  
Luka grinned at her, refusing to give in to the temptation to tell her exactly how he would 'get off' when he was with her again. "That's a very nice thing for you to say, Juliette."  
  
"Oh, but I mean it, mon cher! You're such a sweet man. And so...mmm...passionate."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Oh, yes."  
  
"I recall you saying that several times last night."  
  
"Of course." She stood on her toes and kissed him sweetly, and for a moment Luka was tempted to call in sick. He had been sleeping with Juliette now for almost six weeks and thoroughly enjoyed her company. For God's sake, she *listened* to him. She didn't have a mean bone in her body, she was as kind as they come, and he found it extremely easy to just be *nice* to her.   
  
"You're working tonight, too, aren't you?" he asked, extricating himself carefully from her embrace.   
  
"Hmph...yes. I'm covering a shift for a girl tonight. But I will pick you up tomorrow if you like. Then we can...umm..."  
  
Luka grinned. "Yeah. Sounds like a perfect plan. Why don't you eat breakfast while I take my shower?"  
  
"Oh, but then your meal will be cold! That wouldn't be fair. Eat with me, eh? Come on! You don't eat nearly enough. It's not right...you should have meat on your bones. Oh...I have an even better idea, Luka. We can take a shower together and *then* eat breakfast." She gave him a flirtatious little smile, and he grinned back.  
  
"Oh...well...all right. But then both our meals will be cold!" He feigned reluctance, which made her giggle and wiggle her hips.   
  
He grinned at Juliette's enthusiasm as she dashed into the bathroom and began disrobing. God, she was just beautiful. Nice and petite, with a slightly more full figure-all the better for squeezing, he thought as he stepped through the bathroom door and pulled her to him. "Oh, forgot to say 'good morning'," he said softly as she pulled him into the shower. "Good morning."  
  
"I have every intention of making it a good morning for you, mon cher," she said as she slid the shower door shut and pushed him against the wall. "Perhaps...three times?" she whispered as she lowered herself to her knees.  
  
"Hell, let's make it a nice round number and try for..." His mind went kind of blank then, however, so he never got to suggest the number. But she did a fine job of *reaching* the round number he had in mind.  
  
===============  
  
Luka was definitely in a good mood when he arrived at work. He greeted Carter with a cheerful hello and headed into the lounge, where he nearly ran into Kerry.  
  
"Oh. Hi, Luka."  
  
"What's going on? Noticed that chairs were almost empty."  
  
"Slow day for sickness," she said quietly.  
  
"That's good, I suppose," he said, popping his locker open and exchanging his peacoat for a labcoat. "Does that mean we have a shorter session at the board?"  
  
"No. Um...I mean...there's somebody here that wants to see you," she said. "A Detective Krasuljak."  
  
"Krasuljak?" Luka ran the name through his head. It means 'Daisy' in Croatian, he thought with mild amusement. "What does he want?"  
  
"She. She wants to know...well, you'll have to talk to her."  
  
Luka turned and stared at Kerry, one eyebrow raised. "I can't think of anything I did lately that was illegal," he said. Then he thought about it a moment. He and Juliette had...oh, well, that was in the privacy of his hotel room, between consenting adults. "What is it?"  
  
"She'll have to tell you."  
  
"Great." He banged the locker door shut. "It's sort of a surprise from the Chicago Police Department, then?"  
  
"Yes. Luka, I'm sorry. But I'm not at liberty..."  
  
"I understand, Kerry. You're off at seven, right?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"All right. Let's run the board. Come on."   
  
===============  
  
Sky Krasuljak didn't realize that she was constantly trying to brush her hair back out of her eyes. Every time this Kovac guy looked at her with those damned green-grey-hazel eyes, she felt weird. Like when she was in the tenth grade and Tommy Watson looked in her general direction. Not that he'd been looking at *her*. No, of course not. Tommy had always been looking at SlutBitch Cheerleader #1 of Thomas Jefferson High, Jenny Morris. Who was, at last report, currently living in a trailer park and producing an illegitimate baby every couple of years.  
  
"You wanted to ask me some questions?" he asked, eyes still narrowed slightly.   
  
"Yes. Do you remember what you were doing on the night of November eighteenth?"  
  
"November eighteenth?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Well...hmm...that was, what, two weeks ago?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I was on a date, I think. Sort of a date."  
  
"Your significant other can attest to this?"  
  
"I would think so," he answered.  
  
They were seated in the lounge, at the table, facing each other. She hadn't liked the way his eyes had flicked speculatively over her, or the way a kind of frost had gone over those eyes when she introduced herself as a detective and that she was investigating a series of murders. Still, she thought. There's not a single alarm going off in my head that's screaming, "Murderer!" Instead, a different kind of alarm was going off. One that had never rung before. Hell, the clapper was practically stuck, and the alarm is covered with dust, but it's ringing...  
  
"Is there anything else?" he asked, breaking the chilly silence.  
  
"What is your girlfriend's name? We'll need to talk to her, too."  
  
"Sure. Juliette DuLange. Do you want her address...phone number...?"  
  
"Yes. Just jot it down for me." Luka nodded and quickly wrote the information down. "You were in the Croatian community on that date?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Doing what, exactly?"  
  
"Attending a memorial mass," he said, looking up at her.  
  
"You were at church, then?" she said skeptically.  
  
"Yes. Church. A place one tends to go to remember dead loved ones. Wives, children..."  
  
She looked at him, eyes widening slightly. Kovac only stared back, eyes narrowing again. He obviously didn't like her. Fine with me, she thought angrily. I never asked him to like him. I only want answers. Straight, honest answers. "You're from Croatia, right?" she asked.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"November the eighteenth..." She swallowed. "You...you were at Vukovar?"  
  
"Yes." His voice was cold, hard. He continued to stare at her through equally cold, hard eyes. "Is that all, Detective?"  
  
She couldn't meet his gaze. "No. I'm...I'm sorry, but I do have more questions. What time were you at this mass?"  
  
"It started at six and ended at eight. We left my hotel at five thirty and, from what I remember, we didn't go anywhere else. Went right back to the hotel."  
  
"You live at a hotel?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"How long have you lived at this hotel?"  
  
"Almost two years now."  
  
She made another note on her legal pad. He watched her write, and she felt uncomfortable. Why were left-handed people so fascinating to righties?  
  
"Why don't you live in an apartment?"  
  
Kovac's eyes narrowed again, but he answered. "I live there because I want to. I get a cut in the rent by treating sick tourists, that sort of thing."  
  
"Oh. And you've been in the States now for...six years?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Before that, you lived in Italy and then France, correct? A-After you left Vukovar, I mean?"  
  
"That's what the personnel file says."  
  
That got him a sharp look, but she returned to her legal pad, where all sorts of notes had been written already. 'Luka Kovac, age 38. Born in Croatia. Served in Croatian Army from age 18 to age 22. Widower. Attended University of Bologna Medical School, Bologna, Italy (oldest university in world), graduated #1 in class. No criminal history. Catholic.'  
  
"Yeah. So do you think I did it, Detective Krasuljak?"  
  
"No. I can't honestly say that I think you did. You don't have the...the look of a killer."  
  
"Detective, lots of people don't look like killers. Ever heard of Andrej Chikitillo?"  
  
"You know what I mean."  
  
"Do I?"  
  
"Yes. After a long time on the force, you learn what to look for. You're not a killer. We'll follow through with all the usual procedures. We'll question your girlfriend and then that'll be it. I'm sorry to have inconvenienced you, Dr. Kovac. But it's..."  
  
"The job."  
  
"Yes."  
  
She stood up and was surprised when Luka shot to his feet. "Well, I have work to do. I'll be honest with you, though, Detective. I really hope I never see you again." Then, before she could respond, he turned and walked out of the lounge.   
  
Sky sat there for a moment, startled. Well, how *nice* of him, she thought as she gathered her things together and stuffed them back into her bag. Apparently, my mere presence was offensive to him. I'm just doing my damned job, she thought. I never accused him of any crime. And I told him I thought he was innocent. What more did he want? A goddamn medal?   
  
Growing angrier by the moment, Sky flung the door open and was almost knocked over by a muscular young man in jeans and a black T-shirt. She glared at him. "Watch out!"  
  
"Hey, you watch out!" he snapped. "And whattaya doin' in here, anyhow?"  
  
"I'm a police detective. I was questioning Dr. Kovac."  
  
"Oh? What'd he do?"  
  
She only glowered at him, then turned and stalked away. Just another *guy*, she thought. Well, I don't need some damned guy. They're useless. Always fannying about, causing more trouble than they're worth. And besides, they barely notice that I'm female. Hell, I barely remember that I am except maybe once a month!  
  
===============  
  
"Ahhhh..."  
  
Luka rolled off Juliette and stretched out on his back, closing his eyes. Funny how he could close his eyes while making love to her. He often saw Danijela's face, especially when he reached climax, but it was particularly nice when he saw *Juliette*'s face at that moment. It made him feel that perhaps he really was moving on. He knew he didn't *love* Juliette, after all. But he did enjoy her. He enjoyed everything about her. Funny, how, when he'd been having sex with Abby (usually only because their schedules had coincided), he'd had to keep his eyes open at all times, because otherwise, he'd see Danijela's face. Of course, there had been that time he'd said Danijela's name. That had not pleased Princess Abby.   
  
"That was very nice," she said, rolling to his side and cuddling up beside him. "Wonderful, in fact." She placed a kiss in the center of his chest.   
  
She had picked him up from work at nine, just as promised, and they had gone out for what she called 'brunch'. Conversation at the table had been about the detective who'd come by the restaurant last night to ask her a few questions. "I would not say she was unattractive, really. In fact, she had potential, if she'd do something with her hair and maybe wear more attractive clothes."  
  
"You noticed how she *looked*?" Luka had asked, incredulous.  
  
"Well, yes. Maybe she spends so much time working she forgets that she is a woman, yes?"  
  
Luka had only shrugged. The meal had ended pleasantly, and then the drive back to the hotel. Juliette hadn't had much trouble getting Luka in the mood, and extremely vigorous lovemaking had ensued. He felt warm in her arms. Cared for. And he knew she cared for him. But he was relieved to never see actual *love* in her eyes. The affair was mutually...well, it wasn't *meaningless*. It just wasn't terribly *meaningful*. They enjoyed each other's company, could talk easily with each other, and the sex was, frankly, *mind-blowing*. She *was* French, after all.  
  
"You think it was wonderful, eh?" Luka grinned. "I thought you went to a convent school!"  
  
"I did," Juliette giggled. "But I eventually got out of school and..."  
  
"Became a very naughty girl?"  
  
"I hope so!"  
  
Luka laughed and moved her onto her back again. She rarely wanted to be on top, at least. She seemed to sense that he didn't like being in such a passive position. All she seemed to want, really, was to give him pleasure. It made him all the more eager to please her in return.   
  
It wasn't love. But it was nice. Very, very nice.  
  
===============  
  
Sky banged her apartment door shut, nearly tripped over a sweater she'd neglected to pick up, and made her way to her kitchen. She opened the refrigerator door, grabbed a bottle of Michelob and the plate of leftover pot roast, and banged the bottle on her table. She didn't know why she was so angry. She just was.   
  
She was angry that people were being killed, for one thing. Furious. Of course, she worked in homicide. It was her job, for God's sake. She spent most of her time looking at the decaying bodies of murdered people. The worst cases were always children. But these murders hit close to home. It was her 'own' people dying. Croatians.   
  
Of course, she often forgot about her heritage. She was pretty far removed from Croatia, after all. Her great-grandfather had come to America from Dubrovnik in 1924 at nineteen, escaping an arranged marriage to a woman he didn't love (at least, that was the romantic story he'd told) and had married a beautiful Irish girl. Their son, Andrew, had become a Chicago cop and married a Polish immigrant, and their son, Thomas, had married an Irish cop's daughter and sired six sons and Sky.   
  
*Sky*. Thomas had been a gambler of sorts, and often took chances on sky-high bets. One such sky-high bet had been on a longshot at Belmont, and he'd won over ten thousand dollars. When she was born, he had insisted his only daughter be given a name to memorialize the auspicious event. Thus...Sky Caerlina Krasuljak. Croatian-American, so to speak. Also Irish and Polish-American. She could march in all the parades, at least.  
  
Sitting at her table, watching the plate of pot roast turn in her microwave, she felt that wave of nausea again. That little girl they'd found in a garbage dump yesterday morning. Raped, mutilated, her face cut up to the point of being unrecognizable. Hardened cops had become sick at the site, but Sky had remained stoic and had gone through with the crime-scene investigation. It was only after she'd made it back to the station that she'd lost her lunch.  
  
No matter how often she saw things like that, she would still feel sick. But she'd never admit it to her superiors. At work, she was just Sky Krasuljak-one of the guys. She was barely even recognized as female by her coworkers. They used the same language around her as they would any man, but it still rankled her a little when they cleaned up their act around their wives and girlfriends. Sometimes, she wanted to yell, "Hello, I'm here, I have breasts and a vagina. That makes me female!"  
  
"Ugh." She finished her pot roast and her beer and headed into her bedroom, where her punching bag was hung. She wrapped her knuckles with tape, turned on the CD player to the Rolling Stones' "Bitch" and started punching. After a while, all her aggression and frustration was spent. Exhausted, she headed into the shower. It was only then, standing under the warm spray, that she let herself cry for that poor dead child.  
  
  
To be continued... 


	3. Citizen X (Part 3)

TITLE: Citizen X (Part 3/?)  
AUTHOR: Miesque  
DISCLAIMER: The characters from "ER" are the sole property of NBC, Amblin Entertainment and Warner Bros. They are only being used in this fanfiction series for entertainment purposes and no profit is being made by the author. Sadly enough.   
RATING: PG-13 (mild language, sexual situations)  
SETTING: End of season seven into season eight  
CATEGORY: Luka Kovac/original character; drama, mystery, romance, blah blah blah...  
ARCHIVE: If you must  
SPOILERS: For season seven & eight  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to Ellen Hursh for feedback and suggestions; also, because of TV Guide spoiler for "The Longer You Stay", I changed Claudette's name to Juliette. You know...continuity. And if some of the plot devices seem a little strange, well, this is fanfiction, so just grin and bear it, eh? :)  
  
===============  
  
Luka shuddered slightly and leaned heavily against the rail, looking out at the river. He didn't know why he was feeling a little down today. He'd had to sleep alone last night, as Juliette had to work late and would be back at the restaurant early. It wasn't like he hadn't been *able* to sleep. He was usually able to drift right off every night, bedmate or not. But today-he just felt fatigued and anxious. He wasn't sure why.   
  
"Hey, Luka!"   
  
He recognized the voice and turned to see Abby walking toward him. Oh, great, he thought. "Yeah?"  
  
"Dr. Weaver wants you in the ER asap. There's a kid she thinks speaks Croatian or somethin'. Needs a translator."   
  
Well, at least I didn't have to talk to her, he thought as he followed Abby back to the ER. Not that she ever wanted me to, anyway. He jogged past her and was soon passing through the ambulance bay doors, where was he was greeted by Kerry and two uniformed police officers.   
  
"Luka, we have a fifteen year old girl...stabbing victim. She's conscious. I think she's Croatian, and we need a translator."  
  
"What makes you think she's Croatian?" Luka asked, pulling on a trauma gown. Off her slightly hurt look, he softened his tone. "I mean, is it obvious? If she's Russian I probably can't help much. My Russian is really lousy."  
  
"Just try, Luka. Please."  
  
He nodded and headed into the trauma room, where Carter and Peter Benton were frantically working on a young girl, Peter already yelling for a nurse to call surgery and Carter ordering a chest tube. Her face was streaked with blood-Luka couldn't tell if the blood was coming from cuts or some other source. She looked up at him with terrified black eyes. "Vidio sam ga!"  
  
"Saw who?" Luka asked, glancing up at Carter, who looked at him with worried eyes. The younger doctor shook his head. Luka licked his lips nervously and looked at the girl again. "Who did you see?"  
  
"He stabbed me. He stabbed me in my chest! It hurts!"  
  
"I know, sweetheart. Stay calm...try to stay calm so the doctors can help you. I know you hurt but can you tell me what he looked like?"  
  
"Very thin. He had...a moustache..."   
  
"Thin...with a moustache. What color was his hair, sweetheart?"  
  
"White. White hair."   
  
Luka had to step back then, because she began to spit up blood. Peter and Carter were still calling out desperate orders, struggling to keep her alive. Luka was shoved out of the way, then, and he stepped back, eyes still on the girl's face. He turned and looked out the window, not wanting to see the heart monitor as it flatlined. He saw Kerry standing there. And standing right beside her was Detective Krasuljak.  
  
Tearing off the trauma gown, he strode out into the hall and walked to Kerry's side. She looked up at him expectantly, questioning.   
  
"She's dead."  
  
"Oh, God."   
  
Luka wasn't sure who had said that until Kerry looked at Krasuljak, who looked away for a moment, clearly uncomfortable. He waited until she looked at him again. "She gave me a description. She said he was very thin, with a moustache and 'scraggly white hair'. Will that help at all?"  
  
Krasuljak nodded. "It's the right MO. He stabs...stabs his victims. Likes to...slash them as much as possible. Apparently, from the story we got from a witness, somebody scared him away before he could..."  
  
Luka saw her expression soften, and for a moment he was startled to see that she could be quite attractive. Maybe Juliette was right. But this wasn't the time to think about something like *that*.  
  
"She wasn't raped," Kerry said quietly.  
  
"Yes. I suppose that's...a blessing...to her family. They've been called, of course. Apparently, they're immigrants. Don't speak a word of English. Could Dr. Kovac...?"  
  
Kerry looked up at Luka, appealing to him with her eyes. He nodded and pulled his gloves off. "Don't you speak Croatian?" Luka asked her, once Kerry moved away.  
  
"No, I don't."  
  
"Huh." He continued to study her, noting that her tough persona had returned. In fact, she quickly became hostile.   
  
"Just because my last name is Croatian doesn't mean I speak it. I'm three generations removed from a Croatian immigrant."  
  
"You don't have to be defensive. It was only a question," Luka answered coolly. But he had to admit, he kind of enjoyed her reaction. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were blazing with indignant anger. It was like antagonizing a...a...  
  
What?   
  
===============  
  
"So that's victim number ten," Krasuljak said wearily, flipping her notepad closed and looking up at him. "Four of his victims so far have been children under the age of seventeen."  
  
"All girls?" Luka asked. He picked restlessly at the stringy chicken on his plate. They were seated at the same table in the lounge, waiting for the family of the victim to arrive.   
  
"Six girls, four boys," Krasuljak said. Luka tried to place her accent. It was, most likely, a Chicago accent. He wasn't very good at placing American accents, anyway.   
  
"Oh."  
  
"The FBI is trying to form a profile for the killer. You know...you've seen 'Profiler', right?"  
  
"No. Don't watch a lot of television."  
  
"Oh."  
  
A long, uncomfortable silence. She folded her arms across her chest and stared at the table. Luka didn't mean to look at her chest. Up until rather recently, he didn't notice women very much. Abby...she had barely seemed like a normal woman, to him, anyway. Something had always been off about her-besides the whining and the bitching. And wasn't it usually the man who does the pursuing? That's it...maybe Abby had gotten lost in the whole feminist concept of 'go after what you want and don't stop 'til you get it'. Fortunately, Luka hadn't been what she'd wanted. But he really could have done without the *attitude*.  
  
Luka shook those thoughts from his mind and returned his attention to Krasuljak. Why he wanted to figure out her angle was beyond him-he just *did*. She was a little intriguing, he had to admit. Closed off, totally awkward socially, emotions carefully hidden except in moments of duress.   
  
"So you're Croatian?" he asked.  
  
"Yes. Plus Irish and Polish. I told you that," she said coldly.  
  
"Where...in Croatia...did your family come from?"  
  
"Dubrovnik."  
  
"Ah."  
  
"Where are you from?" she asked, and he couldn't help but notice a bit of shyness in her tone.  
  
"I grew up on the coast. In Dalmatia. Seems we're both Dalmatian."  
  
"Oh." She fingered a pen for a moment, and Luka noticed that she had long, graceful fingers. He wondered, briefly, if she played the piano.   
  
"You don't speak...no, you don't. Uh...when is that family supposed to arrive?"  
  
"In a few minutes. They both had to get off work. They're devastated, of course."  
  
"Yes. They would be."  
  
"I hate this part of my job," she said. "We've had a really hard time communicating with the Croatians, you know? When they see that my surname is Croatian, but that I don't speak...I mean, they expect it, don't they? They get a little...I don't know...hostile, I guess. After all, you expected me to know the language."  
  
"I never *expect* anything, Detective," Luka snapped.   
  
"Really? Let me guess. Before you met me, you expected me to be a man, right?"  
  
Luka glared at her. He *had* expected a male detective. Instead, he was sitting here with this prickly woman that only annoyed him. What was it about her, anyway? He usually didn't let anybody get on his nerves. Most of the time, insults and bad treatment from others just washed over him and he ignored it, or even failed to notice at all. But this woman-every time she opened her mouth she just irritated him even more.   
  
"I'm not a sexist," he said icily. "I don't care if you're male or female. Just so long as you track this monster down."  
  
"I'm doing my dead-level best, Dr. Kovac."  
  
He didn't doubt that she was. Even though he didn't like this woman, he saw solid determination in her eyes and in the well-drawn lines of her face. Something told him she wouldn't stop until the killer was caught and behind bars.   
  
And, he had to admit, he liked that she had a chin.   
  
===============  
  
Sky was even more uneasy around the family of the victim. She stood opposite the older man and woman as they sat on the lounge couch, both sobbing and holding each other, communicating their grief to each other without words. She looked over at Dr. Kovac, who was standing with his head down, doing something with his hands. It took Sky a minute to figure out that he was rubbing his thumb into his palm in a kind of nervous gesture. He licked his lips a lot and only sometimes looked at the couple. Finally, he stepped forward.   
  
"We should have them go down and see the body," he told her.  
  
"Why? Let them grieve for a little while. We already showed them the photograph."  
  
"They should see her. They should know."  
  
Sky looked away, biting her lip. Finally, she looked back at him. "Okay."   
  
He turned back to the couple and spoke, in very clear, direct tones. They looked up at him, momentarily confused, then they nodded and slowly got to their feet. Sky noticed that Kovac didn't touch them. In fact, he stayed out of their personal space and kept his hands stuffed into his pockets. She found that rather odd, until she realized that she rarely touched people herself, and didn't like being touched either. Yet...Sky had to admit that she still *craved* contact. It was just so difficult, so painful, to make the first move.  
  
She followed Kovac and the Jarnevics to the elevators, and stood apart from them, noting yet again that the Croatian doctor stood just outside their space, obviously ready to offer comfort when asked but otherwise staying out. Perhaps it's a defense mechanism, she thought.   
  
Sky had been in morgues before. She had stood beside horrified family members as they identified beloved children, wives, parents...but she had kept herself apart from it. She had somehow managed to develop a shield to cover her emotions while they wept or screamed. Some even tore their clothes. Some became hysterical...  
  
But the reaction of the Jarnevics was heart-rendering. When the body was pulled out (God, but it reminded her of a giant human file cabinet) and the white sheet was lifted up, Mrs. Jarnevic's eyes filled with tears. She stood for a moment, then she slowly fell to her knees and began to sob. The sound she made was beyond any description Sky could have given it. It was the sound of a heart breaking.  
  
It was only then that Dr. Kovac reached down to touch the woman. He put his hand on her shoulder, saying nothing, but looking down at her, waiting, listening patiently as she talked through her sobs. Mr. Jarnevic only stood, staring down at his child, his mouth a thin line of grief and pain.   
  
"What is she saying?" Sky asked softly, not daring to look at Kovac.  
  
"'My daughter, my daughter. If only I had died in her place. If she could live I would happily die. My daughter, my daughter...'" Kovac's face was unreadable. He shifted his gaze to Sky, oddly-colored eyes almost looking like...bruises. Sky was afraid to look at him again.   
  
She couldn't even contemplate meeting that gaze again.  
  
===============  
  
Luka was relieved to get off work at five that evening. He drove to the restaurant where Juliette worked and parked on the street. He smiled to himself before he got out of the car. This place had been where the 'beginning of the end' had been, between him and Abby. A mutual decision, at least. His flirtation with Juliette had irritated Abby, which had irritated him a little. She could go to charity balls with Carter. She could take a road trip to Oklahoma with Carter. But if Luka looked at another woman, Princess Abby (as he had started calling her by that time) had every right to pitch a hissy fit. Which she had done, in full public view. It had become clear to Luka, that night, that Abby was an extremely unattractive woman when she was in the throes of a temper tantrum.   
  
Stepping into the restaurant, Luka was greeted by Etienne, the maitre'd. "Ah, Luka, how are you?"  
  
"Okay, I think. Juliette gets off at six, right?"  
  
"Yes, I think so. Do you want to sit and wait?"  
  
"Yeah, if it's no trouble."  
  
"None at all. She mentioned that another poor child had been killed...horrible. Just horrible. I cannot imagine why someone would want to kill a little girl."  
  
"Neither can I," Luka said softly. "But it still happens."  
  
"Yes. Would you like some water?"  
  
"Can I buy a bottle of wine instead?"  
  
"Certainly."  
  
Luka took a seat at a small table in a dark corner, wanting to keep out of the way. Juliette, however, saw him and made her way over. She smiled at him. "Hello, mon cher. You are feeling sad, yes?"  
  
"Yeah, a little. Today wasn't a great day."  
  
"No, I suppose not. How awful! When I get off we will go to..."  
  
"Bed."  
  
She smiled softly. "If you like."  
  
"Well, if you don't like...I mean, maybe you want to go out? I'm determined to drink a great deal tonight, too, if you don't mind too much. But if you want to go out..." He saw her expression soften and those pretty blue eyes smiling down at him and felt better. "I need to be thoroughly...*snockered*... tonight, Juliette. And I need to be with you." He lowered his voice so no one else would hear. "I need to feel you underneath me tonight."  
  
Juliette gave him a knowing smile. "I know. When I get off we'll go back to the hotel and do a bit of drinking. No one should drink alone, oui?"  
  
===============  
  
Luka wasn't a heavy drinker, but when he set his mind to it, he could really get plastered. He could let his mind go totally blank and just...drift away. The sex with Juliette was just as amazing as usual, except that he was sure he wouldn't remember it tomorrow morning. She was a little drunk, too, but at least had been the one to remember to get out the box of condoms.   
  
Now, lying in her arms, cradled in her warmth and sweetness, his mind jumbled up all sorts of images. Images he didn't want to see. Danijela. Marko. Jasna. Amalka Jarnevic.   
  
But the image that irritated him-the image that made him wake Juliette up and take her so roughly-was the face of Sky Krasuljak. Juliette didn't seem to mind his urgency, at least. In fact, she seemed to have enjoyed herself, if the delighted sounds she made when she reached orgasm were any indication. But after he'd achieved his own climax and rolled off her, he lay there, catching his breath and dreading the headache he'd have tomorrow.   
  
She sat up and looked down at him, concern in her eyes. He gazed at her full breasts, already become aroused again. He had to look away. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to...  
  
"Is something wrong, mon cher?"  
  
"No. Nothing's wrong."  
  
"You seem...very distracted."  
  
"I do?"  
  
"Oui. Like something is on your mind. Perhaps it is not just the murders, eh? Something else is bothering you."  
  
"I'm just...tired. I mean...stressed out."  
  
"Sex is a good way of working out stress, oui?" She smiled at him and moved over him. "Perhaps...something with a little less effort on your part, hmm?"   
  
A little less effort, Luka thought. His affair with Juliette required very little effort. She never demanded that he read her mind. She never bitched at him, never complained. She didn't have any crazy relatives that she hated. She had a happy, optimistic outlook on life, which was *exactly* what he needed right now. Plus, the affair was passionate. It was fun. She was warm and sexy and totally giving without demanding anything in return. He often felt a twinge of guilt, at taking advantage of her generosity and sweetness...at wanting a relationship that didn't require very deep emotional involvement. But if she held any resentment toward him, he never sensed it. She was always ready to smile. She was always ready to laugh. And, as she began kissing his chest and belly, making her way down, it was apparent that she was also always ready to satisfy him.   
  
===============  
  
"Detective Krasuljak?"  
  
Sky was roused from a fitful sleep at three a.m., and the sound of the phone ringing at this hour never boded well. "Yeah?"  
  
"We've found another body. Looks like the little bastard struck again. Better get down here. It's pandemonium...oh, and we're gonna need a translator. Quick."  
  
"Oh...yeah. Damn..." She hung up on Krayson and went in search of her jeans and a warm sweater. She grabbed her cell phone as she headed out, stuffing her undershirt into her jeans, and dialed Cook County General Hospital. "Hello? Who is this? Frank? This is Detective Krasuljak. I need to speak with a Doctor Luka Kovac. Is he available?"  
  
"No, he's off tonight."  
  
"Oh. Okay. Thank you." She hung up and dug in her bag for her notepad. Ah, there it was. She flipped pages until she found the number she wanted and dialed it quickly. If she woke him up from a sound sleep, so be it. In fact, she had to admit that she got a bit of perverse pleasure out of it.  
  
"Hello?" said a sleepy female voice.  
  
"Is this Doctor Kovac's room?" Sky asked, immediately feeling uneasy.  
  
"Oui...yes. Who is this?"   
  
French accent, Sky thought. He's in bed with the French waitress. That made Sky feel flushed and...oh, God. "This is Detective Krasuljak. I need to speak with Doctor Kovac immediately."  
  
"Umm...he is asleep, mademoiselle. Can I take...message?"  
  
"No. I need to talk to him. Now."  
  
There was a shallow sigh, then whispers. Sky heard a deep, scratchy male voice snap, "What the hell?!" and then a loudly barked "What?"  
  
"This is Detective Krasuljak..."  
  
"Yes, I gathered that. What do you want?"   
  
"We've had another murder and we need a translator at the site. Can you come?"  
  
"Translator?" He sounded bewildered. And...was he slurring his words?  
  
"Are you drunk?" she asked, astounded.  
  
"Hung over, more like. Where...where was the body found?"  
  
She gave him quick directions, which he repeated to the Frenchwoman, who apparently was writing it down. "I'll be there as soon as I can," he said. "Bye."   
  
Hung over, Sky thought. A hung-over translator. Well, hell, it's better than nothing. Even inebriated, he should be able to tell us what's being said by the witnesses. But...he'd better not bring his French floozy!  
  
  
To be continued... 


	4. Citizen X (Part 4)

TITLE: Citizen X (Part 4/?)  
AUTHOR: Miesque  
DISCLAIMER: The characters from "ER" are the sole property of NBC, Amblin Entertainment and Warner Bros. They are only being used in this fanfiction series for entertainment purposes and no profit is being made by the author. Sadly enough.   
RATING: PG-13 (mild language, sexual situations)  
SETTING: End of season seven into season eight  
CATEGORY: Luka Kovac/original character; drama, mystery, romance, blah blah blah...  
ARCHIVE: If you must  
SPOILERS: For season seven & eight   
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to Ellen Hursh for feedback and suggestions; and when Luka is obviously talking to Croatians, assume he's speaking Croatian. I don't speak Croatian. English is hard enough.  
  
===============  
  
It *was* pandemonium. Unlike anything Luka had ever seen. He got out of his car slowly, taking in what he was seeing. An entire sea of people was standing at the open end of an alley, talking amongst themselves. Luka recognized at least two faces, and was greeted in his own language, but said nothing in reply-just a simple nod. He then saw Detective Krasuljak standing under a floodlight, and for a moment he couldn't believe what he was seeing.   
  
She was dressed casually in jeans, a sweater and that long duster that had apparently been stolen from the wardrobe department for 'Columbo'. Her back was to the light, so that her dark hair was illuminated almost in a halo. He could see the smooth lines of her face, her full mouth, a remarkably perfect nose and that firm chin, almost in profile. Strange that he hadn't noticed how long her eyelashes were, or how smooth and clear her skin was. Hell, right now, she looked like a real *woman*, not just some tough cop that he didn't particularly like.  
  
Krasuljak turned her head slightly and saw him, and nodded. "Dr. Kovac. I...uh...thank you for coming. We have a witness. An actual witness, and a pretty clear-headed one. The victim is...well...I doubt you'll want to see her in your condition."  
  
"My condition?" he asked, confused.  
  
"Yes. You sounded a bit...drunk on the phone."  
  
"I'm pretty awake now, Detective," he snapped. "And it's 'hung over'. There's a difference. So I think I can bear to see her...if it's necessary. But where's the witness, first of all?"  
  
"Over here." She jerked her head in the direction of a police cruiser. "A Natalja Zeleznak. She swears she saw the guy leaving the murder scene. His victim, this time, appears to have been a slightly older woman, maybe in her mid-thirties. It's odd that he doesn't seem to strike any particular *type*, but that all his victims are Croatian. We're thinking maybe it's a vengeance-minded Serb."  
  
"That would be too obvious," Luka countered. "A Serb attacking Croatians...hardly original, huh?"  
  
She looked up at him, eyes narrowed. "Are you suddenly a detective, Dr. Kovac?"  
  
"No..."  
  
"You wanted to be one, though, didn't you?"  
  
"For about five minutes. Then I wanted to be a cowboy."  
  
She didn't seem to appreciate his half-hearted joke. Instead, she turned and marched toward the cruiser. Luka sighed and followed her. The woman was sitting in the back seat, arms folded across her chest, staring blankly at the scene before her. Luka turned back and saw the bodybag being dropped onto a gurney and rolled up into the coroner's coach. He turned back to the woman. "Natalja? I'm Dr. Kovac," he said quickly. "What did you see tonight?"  
  
"Very thin man," she said. "Cigarette. Can I have a cigarette?"  
  
"Give her a cigarette," Luka directed to one of the uniformed cops standing nearby. "Can you tell me anything else about him?"  
  
"He had scraggly white hair. And a moustache."  
  
Hell, it could be an Albert Einstein wig and fake moustache, Luka thought glumly. "Was he tall? Short?"  
  
"Tall. Very thin. Slight build. I did not see his face well...just noticed the moustache."  
  
Luka turned and looked back at the crowd gathered to watch the events as they unfolded. He scanned each face, foolishly thinking that perhaps he'd see someone that resembled the killer. Come back to revel in his 'accomplishments', perhaps. People were sick that way, after all...  
But he saw no one that aroused his interest. He turned back to Natalja. "What time was it...when you saw this man?"  
  
"It was two fifteen," she answered. "I had just got off work. I saw him leaving the alley-he almost ran into me...I was about to start walking away when I heard a sound...a moan, and went to see what it was. I found her...blood everywhere. God, it was like the war...she was dying in her blood!"  
  
Luka nodded and straightened, then turned and looked at Krasuljak. "She's very upset," Luka said quickly. "She probably ought to be treated for hypertension...she looks pretty overwhelmed. A psych consult might also be in order. Can somebody transport her to the hospital?"  
  
"She needs to come to the station first, for further questioning."  
  
"Not before I'm sure she's all right," Luka answered.  
  
"Dr. Kovac, I insist she come to the station first. She looks just fine to me."  
  
"And you got your medical degree *when*, Detective Krasuljak?!"  
  
"I'm not a doctor."  
  
"And I *am*. And when I suspect someone might be in danger of heart trouble or severe emotional upset, I will insist they be seen. Immediately. No argument. Got it?"  
  
"Are you telling me what to do?"  
  
"I am indeed."  
  
"You can go screw yourself, Kovac. She comes to the station. Right now. *No arguments*!"  
  
Luka felt his temper-and his blood pressure-rising. He took a step forward. "Listen here, Machka. When it comes to a person's health, I won't be moved until I'm sure he or she is in fit condition to leave. This woman will be of *no* use to your investigation if she is dead from a heart attack or locked up in a mental hospital because she had a nervous breakdown after having found a woman dying in a pool of her own damned blood. So you will shut up, get in the cruiser, and drive her to the God-damned hospital!"  
  
Several people were watching this heated argument with increasing interest. Besides that, a local news crew had arrived and was setting up for a crime-scene report. When Luka glanced up, he noticed that the cameras were pointing directly at them. "Or don't you want to look as good-as *competent*-as possible in public? Because if anything were to go wrong with your first important witness, and it was discovered that it was *your* fault, then things would not look good on you, would it?"  
  
"What did you call me?!" she shouted.   
  
Luka honestly didn't remember. "What?"  
  
"You called me something. Match-Car or something. What the hell does it mean?"  
  
"Machka. I called you Machka." He couldn't keep from smiling. *Kitten*. That's what it was. Getting her angry was like antagonizing a kitten. Of course, this kitten had quite a bite and one *hell* of a set of claws.  
  
"What does it mean?"  
  
"Are you going to transport her to the hospital?" he asked her blandly.   
  
"Ugh! All right. Dammit...I hate having to wait. You'll have to come back to the station, of course, when she's released. And won't you feel foolish when it turns out she has the heart of a nineteen-year old and the mental and emotional strength of Eleanor Roosevelt?"  
  
Luka rolled his eyes. "Eleanor Roosevelt was your best choice?"  
  
She glared at him, then turned and stalked away.   
  
===============  
  
"Well, Machka, you'll be very relieved to know that Natalja will be released from the hospital with a clean bill of health. She is *quite* mentally stable, despite her recent trauma. She passed all the tests, and you'll be delighted to hear that she does indeed possess the heart of a nineteen year old."  
  
"See? I told you!" Krasuljak said smugly, taking a sip of her coffee. She gripped the phone in her hands, barely realizing that her knuckles were turning white. She hated that she liked the sound of his voice.  
  
"So long as her body doesn't reject it."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Tell me, when will you need me at the station? I've got a colleague asking if I can cover a shift for him, but if you need me I can tell him to shove it and come by this afternoon."  
  
"Oh, well, Doctor, I wouldn't want you to miss any work. Gotta pay for those golf clubs!"  
  
She heard what could have only been a chuckle. "I don't play golf, Machka."  
  
"Are you going to tell me what that means or not?"  
  
"I'll see you around." click  
  
Sky very gently hung the phone up and sat at her desk for a long time, staring at the phone. Unconsciously, she swept her hair back again. Getting up, she made her way to the ladies' room and splashed some cool water on her face. She'd been up since...God knows when. She had circles under her eyes. There was a stain on her sweater (spaghetti sauce?), and she was aghast to see that there was something green stuck in her teeth. Beer stains, too. She stared at herself in the mirror, adjusting her horn-rimmed glasses again. "Not much," she said glumly. Her mother had once told her that underneath all that tough talk, muscle and attitude,  
there was *still* a woman. "Yeah. Right. A woman. Who has never been on a date. Who hangs out in bars. Whose idea of a great time is chasing perps and reciting the Miranda in Latin."  
  
"Heya, Sky," Detective Mellon called when she stepped out of the bathroom. "Captain Sweeney wants to see you."  
  
Sighing, she headed into her commanding officer's office. He looked up at her, then gestured casually for her to sit.  
  
"We're thinking of bringing Doctor Kovac into the case," Sweeney said, sipping his Coke through a straw. "He speaks the language, he has a reputation for being able to communicate with people in this sort of situation. I've read over his record...would you be willing to work with him on a regular basis?"  
  
Sky wanted to scream "No!" but instead felt like she was deflating like a balloon. Working with *him*. Who looked at her as though she was nothing more than a...a...ridiculous *parody* of femininity. And even worse, he had given her a nickname that didn't sound very complimentary. *Machka*. She wished she'd paid attention to her grandfather when he'd tried to teach her Croatian!  
  
===============  
  
Luka lay beside Juliette, breathing in the perfume of her hair, feeling relaxed for the first time in more than twenty-four hours. She had insisted on giving him a massage, then had dragged him into the bathroom, where they had taken a warm, relaxing bath together. She had insisted on doing all the 'work' tonight, which he appreciated. Now, he lay there, listening to her breathing, wishing he loved her. Well, he *liked* her, at least.   
  
But his mind kept drifting back to the sight of Sky Krasuljak standing under that floodlight, a halo of light around her head. He thought about her fingers. Her skin. He wondered what her fingers would feel like against his own skin. Her mouth and her...  
  
"Luka?"  
  
He started, unprepared for her to be awake. "Yes?"  
  
Juliette rolled over to face him, slipping her arms around his neck. She kissed him, sliding her tongue expertly across his lower lip, then nibbling slightly. "What's on your mind?"  
  
"Uh..."  
  
"You are thinking of...perhaps...someone else, yes?"  
  
"Juliette...come on. I'm not..."  
  
She smiled. "But you are, aren't you?"  
  
"Strange how well you read me," he admitted, feeling ashamed. "I'm sorry."  
  
"It is all right, mon cher. We are...how you say?...merely lovers, not in love. We like each other, we like being together. But we both know this is not for the long haul. You just broke up with a horrible girlfriend and need some light and happiness, yes?"  
  
"Well, yeah..."  
  
"Then don't feel guilty. If you are thinking of another woman while you make love to me, it's not a big deal."  
  
"Who do you think about?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
She giggled. "I will not tell, mon cher!"  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Never!"  
  
"You know, I really do like you, Juliette. You're a great woman."  
  
"Why, merci, mon cher." She wriggled a little closer into his embrace. "You're a very fine man, too."  
  
"You say that often enough."  
  
"And I mean it. You deserve nothing but the very best," she smiled. "Perhaps one day, you will find it, oui?"  
  
"The best? Must say, you're awfully close to that yourself."  
  
"Ah, but I am not quite what you're looking for, Luka. I'm not your soulmate. But I am your friend. And I want you to be as happy as possible."  
  
"Well..." He grinned. "Make me happy, then."   
  
Juliette raised an eyebrow. "Hmm...any suggestions?"  
  
===============  
  
Sky frequented the Jolly Roger Bar and Grill, but hadn't darkened the door in quite a while. It was a gathering place for cops and firemen, and she felt comfortable in this testosterone-laden environment. Big, noisy men. Yelling. Cussing. Beer. Cigarette smoke choking her lungs, burning her eyes. Loud music. Football on the TV. It was, however, rather quiet tonight. When she saw the score (Chicago Bears vs. Dallas Cowboys) she realized *why* it was so quiet. She sat down at the bar, laid five dollars down and ordered a beer.   
  
"Hey, Sky." She looked over and saw Patrick McGintey and his latest squeeze-some bubble-headed little blonde that she vaguely recalled was named *Amber*. Obviously born in the 1980's, Sky thought snidely. Probably with bangles already around her wrists.  
  
"Hello, Pat," she answered. "How's the vice squad doing these days? Catch any hookers?" Besides the one sitting on your lap?  
  
McGintey rolled his eyes. "Several. We had a very active night last night. How 'bout you? Catch that serial killer yet?"  
  
"If it ain't on the news, it ain't happened yet."  
  
"Well, at least you get some publicity, huh? Though I'd suggest you get cleaned up a bit, of course. You know...better hairdo, a little makeup. If only to cover up the..." He paused when he saw the look in Sky's eyes. Surely he hadn't forgotten the last time they had practiced hand-to-hand fighting at the police gym. She had beaten the crap out of him with remarkable ease.  
  
"Hope you and Amber there have fun at the kiddie park tomorrow, Pat," Sky said, tipping her bottle in his direction. "Be sure and use the teeter-totter. I hear it's an absolute *scream*!" She took another swig and saw her image in the mirror, and the painful memory came back again.   
  
She had been seventeen. Painfully shy, insecure and suddenly, right between fourth and fifth periods (history and English lit), up walks the captain of the football team...  
  
"Hey, Sky. What's up?"  
  
"N-nothing," she answered softly. God, he was so gorgeous. And here he was, talking to her! To Sky Krasuljak!  
  
"Are you going to the Spring Dance?"  
  
"N-no. I don't...don't think so. Nobody's asked me."  
  
"Ah." He grinned down at her from his full six-feet, three inches. Then, to her utter surprise, he bent down and kissed her right on the mouth. In front of everybody. For a long time, there was only the sound of air rushing in her ears, her heart pounding, her breath coming fast. Then...the sound of laughter. He was *laughing at her*. "There. Gimme my fifty bucks, you son of a bitch. You said to kiss the ugliest girl in school, and I did it! I want my money!"  
  
Sky had done the only thing that came naturally to her. She had punched him right in the face. So hard that she'd broken his nose. Before he could recover and get away, though, she had kneed him in the groin. *That* had put him in the hospital.   
  
"Hey! Krasuljak! You wanna join us for a game a' darts?"  
  
She was jolted out of her memories by the loud voice of another colleague, Lt. Grayson, calling to her from the back room of the bar.   
  
"Uh...sure, Charlie," she called back. "Let me get a couple more beers and I'll be right in."   
  
She looked at the bartender. "Harvey?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Two more Michelobs. And...you got a bottle of good whiskey back there?"  
  
"Sure, kid. Rough day? Man troubles, maybe?"  
  
She knew Harvey wasn't pulling her leg. The first time he'd made a comment like that to her, she'd put him in a headlock and threatened to kill him. Now, she knew he was actually *complimenting* her. *Her*. He was always asking her if she had a boyfriend yet. He'd even said, once, "How come a pretty girl like you ain't married with a couple rug monkeys by now? It ain't right, Sky. There's lots of guys out there who'd thank God in heaven to have a girl like you."  
  
"No. No man troubles. No man to have trouble *with*."  
  
"Ah, that's a shame. A girl like you could use a bit of trouble."  
  
"I have no use for trouble outside my job, Harvey."  
  
He only rolled his eyes. "You'll see the error of your ways soon enough, lassie. Like I been tellin' you these five years, he's just around the corner." He didn't look amused when she echoed 'just around the corner' in a mocking tone.  
  
Sky looked around the room. Sitting at one of the tables, glaring sulkily at the Bears being pummelled by the Cowboys, was Det. Kronenberger. Who was *gay*. "If he's just around the corner, he'd better watch out. He tries any crap on me, I'll...kick him in the nuts."  
  
"Ah, Sky," he said mournfully, shaking his head. "Oh, how is your father, darlin'? Is he much better since the last...?"  
  
"Episode? He calls them 'episodes'. Like each attack is like a sitcom or something. He had another small heart attack on the tenth of October. Spent maybe a week at Mercy before they let him go. He complains all the time, refuses to stay in bed, and keeps eating corn beef on rye."  
  
"Sounds just like a Krasuljak. Just like your grandfather!"  
  
She took a swig of her beer. "Oh? Did he ever use the word 'Machka' around you? My grandfather, I mean?"  
  
"No...not that I'm aware of. Why d'ya ask?"  
  
"Never mind. Here's the cash for the beers. I'm gonna go win some money at darts. G'night."  
  
  
To be continued... 


	5. Citizen X (Part 5)

TITLE: Citizen X (Part 5/?)  
AUTHOR: Miesque  
DISCLAIMER: The characters from "ER" are the sole property of NBC, Amblin Entertainment and Warner Bros. They are only being used in this fanfiction series for entertainment purposes and no profit is being made by the author. Sadly enough.   
RATING: PG-13 (mild language, sexual situations)  
SETTING: End of season seven into season eight  
CATEGORY: Luka Kovac/original character; drama, mystery, romance, blah blah blah...  
ARCHIVE: If you must  
SPOILERS: For season seven & eight   
SONG: 'Please Send Me Someone to Love' by Fiona Apple  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to Ellen Hursh for feedback and suggestions.  
  
===============  
  
Sky waited impatiently for Kovac, finding herself seated yet *again* in chairs. This time, however, she tried to appear calm and patient, filing her fingernails...for the first time in months. She usually just bit them off when they got too long. Now, on examining them closely, she was startled to see that they were ragged and even...dirty. Yuck! She went after them with a metal emory board. A dig through her bag finally revealed a pair of those little cuticle scissors and she went to work on hangnails.   
  
She didn't even want to *think* about the condition of her toenails.  
  
"Detective Krasuljak?"  
  
She looked up and saw Dr. Weaver standing there, leaning on her crutch. Sky was curious about the source of the injury to the woman's leg, but kept her curiosity to herself. "Dr. Weaver. I was hoping to speak with Dr. Kovac. Is he here?"  
  
"Yes, but he's in with a trauma right now. Can I help you? I got a call from your captain this morning about involving Dr. Kovac with the investigation into the recent murders...he'll be a sort of go-between with the police and the Croatian community, right?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I'm sure he'll be happy to help, but you do realize that this will be very stressful for him. He's...well, he's got a tendency to...overdo it a bit."  
  
"Oh?" Sky tried to ignore her ringing cellphone, which was set on vibrate. "Well, I'll keep an eye on the situation."  
  
"I hope you will." Dr. Weaver eyed Sky for a moment, then turned and crutched away. Sky pulled out her cellphone.   
  
"Krasuljak."  
  
"Sky? This is your mother."  
  
"Mom, I can't talk right now, okay?"  
  
"Your father had another episode."  
  
"Oh, God." She spun around and saw Kovac walking toward her, his shoulders hunched slightly. He was wearing a black turtleneck that was, frankly, devastating. "When? Is he at the hospital?"  
  
"Yes. At Mercy again. All your brothers are on the way. Can you come?"  
  
"I'll...I'll see what I can do, Mom. You're there, too?"  
  
"Yes, of course."  
  
"Okay. I've got to talk to this guy and then I'll be over asap. Bye."   
  
She struggled to regain her composure before she had to talk to Kovac again. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, looking directly at him as he came toward her. But before he could even speak, she nervously pushed her hair back out of her eyes and readjusted her glasses. "We need to make this quick, all right? I have business to attend to."  
  
"Sure."  
  
"The Chicago Police Department will put you on a kind of retainer. Paying you for services rendered...you'll sort of be on the payroll, but not an official employee. Is that understood?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You'll be under my...uh...jurisdiction."  
  
That got a curious lift of an elegant eyebrow, but nothing more. She continued bravely.  
  
"You'll...you'll be in on all communications with the Croatian community. You'll be talking with relatives and friends of victims very frequently. Do you think you can handle that?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You'll be...uh...uh..."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Youll be reporting directly to me on any information you might obtain. Particularly if a victim is brought here alive. It is extremely important that information not be made public. The Police Department will be releasing whatever information it deems necessary *first*. Not the hospital or *you*."  
  
Sky didn't appreciate his smart salute, much less the sound of his heels clicking together. "Yes, sir...er...ma'am!" In fact, her face flushed and her eyes started blazing.  
  
"Thank *you*, Doctor Kovac."  
  
"I'm sorry. I've just not been given orders like that since I was in the Army. Not even Kerry is that...*military* in her approach."  
  
"You think I'm *military*?" She glowered at him, feeling that his apology had not been very sincere. In fact, he looked annoyingly amused.  
  
"Put a uniform on and you'd be a regular sergeant major." He grinned at her, but the smile faded away. "Listen. I know you're under a lot of stress, Machka. So just...uh...lighten up a bit, huh? A bit of graveyard humor in a situation like this keeps you from going nuts."  
  
"I see no reason to laugh while people are dying."  
  
"Then we'd never laugh at all, would we? Because people die every day. Innocent people, even."  
  
Sky looked down, studying his long legs. He was wearing black slacks to match that turtleneck. Few men could wear a turtleneck without looking like a toddler, or a poor imitation of a poet. He looked...*amazing*. Clean-shaven, black hair with grey at the temples. Tanned, olive skin. High, Slavic cheekbones. It wasn't fair, him being so good-looking. If he'd been just ordinary or downright ugly, it wouldn't bother her that he didn't *see* her.  
  
"Well...uh..."  
  
"I think you were about to say 'good point, Dr. Kovac', right? Anyway. I've got work to do, too. So I'll see you around, right?"  
  
"Yes. Umm...yes. I'll see you around."  
  
They paused, staring at each other. Sky cleared her throat uneasily, and Kovac licked his lips. "Is something wrong?"  
  
"My father had another...heart attack."  
  
"Oh. I'm sorry. Was it a severe attack?"  
  
"No. A mild one. It's the third one...so far. You're a doctor. You know what it's like. He won't...oh, why am I telling you this? I have to go. He's at Mercy."  
  
"You can tell me if you like."   
  
She was startled by the *kindness* in his tone. But she knew he was well-practiced at dealing with people who had suffered loss. And Sky didn't want to be just another 'case' to him. She squared her shoulders again-not having noticed, until then, that they had sagged in exhaustion. "I don't think it's necessary. I'm sure you have plenty of patients."  
  
He looked at his watch. "None at the moment."  
  
"I still have to be there. I'll...I'll call you if anything happens." She turned away, then turned back. "With the case, I mean!"  
  
"Yes. Of course."  
  
===============  
  
Luka sat down in the lounge and worked a crossword puzzle, which did a lot to clear his mind. It would have been easier had it been in Croatian, or even French or German, but the Trib's daily puzzle was passable as a diversion. He glanced up when he heard the door open and Carter and Abby came in together, laughing.   
  
"...and it's not my fault that guy decided he wanted to leave AMA. But it reminded me a lot of the 'Far Side' cartoon of the man with all the snakes attached to his body, pushing the button for 'poison control' on the elevator," Carter was saying, giggling. "I tried to talk him into staying, but he was pretty determined to leave."  
  
"Oh..hi, Luka," Abby said. Luka nodded to her and returned to his puzzle. "How are you doing?"  
  
"Just fine," he answered absently.  
  
"I hear you have another job," Carter said. "Helping out with that serial killer thing...sounds really...uh..."  
  
"Fun?" Luka queried, looking up at Carter.  
  
"No...hardly," Carter shuddered. "Some nutjob killing kids. I'm sure the CPD is grateful to have somebody helping."  
  
Luka studied Carter, searching the younger doctor's face for some trace of sarcasm. But Carter seemed very sincere, and Luka felt any degree of hostility fading away. He finally shrugged. "Yes. I suppose they are."  
  
"I caught a glimpse of that cop. Detective...Kras...Krasoo..."  
  
"Krasuljak."  
  
"Yeah. Interesting name."  
  
"It's Croatian."  
  
"It is?" Abby interjected. "She didn't look Croatian...I mean...umm...she didn't look..."  
  
"Foreign?" Luka smiled. "No, she isn't foreign. Doesn't even speak Croatian."   
  
Abby watched as Luka rose to his feet, stretching like a big cat. It still annoyed her that he looked so much healthier and happier since their breakup. In fact, she had heard through the grapevine that he was dating the very same French waitress that had pretty much *caused* Luka to dump her two and half months ago. Naturally, however, she failed to realize that it was *her* behavior that had caused him to grow sick of her attitude and kick her to the curb. But Abby still resented Luka's happiness. Shouldn't he be morose and depressed now, after the end of their affair? He'd practically become a zombie after Carol left, after all...  
  
"Oh. Well..."  
  
Carter couldn't resist. "Kind of an odd-looking woman, huh? I mean...kind of a female Columbo."  
  
Luka turned and glared at his younger colleague, but said nothing. He didn't think Krasuljak...Sky...was unattractive. In fact...  
  
===============  
  
"Hey, Kovac, you got a call on line three from the Chicago PD," Frank called to Luka.  
  
"Yeah, thanks," Luka muttered, picking up the phone and punching the button. "This is Dr. Kovac."  
  
"We had another murder. Twenty year old woman this time. Found at the city dump."  
  
Luka felt sick to his stomach. *The dump*? his mind screamed. "This guy works fast, doesn't he? It's only been six days since the last one."  
  
"I know. That's serial killers for ya. It's all about the thrill."  
  
Luka didn't even want to think about that. He tapped his pen on a chart, glancing up to see Juliette standing near the front desk, watching him with a curious and concerned expression. She was dressed to the nines in an incredibly sexy little black dress and a mink stole-ready to go out for a night on the town. They had tickets to the symphony, followed by dinner, maybe dancing and then incredible sex. But those plans were now shot all to hell by a psychotic.  
  
"Allo, mon cher," she said, moving closer. "What's going on?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Juliette. Plans are off tonight. There's been another murder."  
  
"Oh, God, no! How awful! Not another little girl!"  
  
"No. A twenty-year old woman."  
  
"Oh, mon Dieu! I'm so sorry...is there anything I can do?"  
  
"I don't think so." He gave her a light kiss on the forehead. "You really are a sweet woman. Anybody else'd be bitching because her plans were cancelled."  
  
"Oh, l'enfer, mon cher. I would be a horrible bitch if I did that, wouldn't I?" She looked up at him. "Besides, Luka, I think you enjoy working with Detective Krasuljak."  
  
He stiffened. "That's ridiculous."  
  
"Oh? I know you like her. She is...ah...challenging, oui?"  
  
Luka pretended he didn't understand her meaning. Instead, he looked away, watching as Kerry ran the bullet with EMTs bringing in what appeared to be an MVA. He shrugged. "I have to go, cherie. I'll call you later?"  
  
"Sure," she smiled. "I will light a candle for the poor woman tonight before I go home."  
  
"Sounds like a great idea," Luka said, kissing her again. "We'll go to the symphony some other time, eh? Like...later in the season? During playoffs?"  
  
She laughed and swatted him on the chest. "Vilain garçon!"  
  
===============  
  
When he saw her, she was squatting beside a body covered with a sheet, and yet again he could see her profile. Even amongst this...horror...Luka couldn't keep from noticing how finely drawn her face was.   
  
The garbage dump was utterly putrid. Seagulls screamed overhead, and various monstrous-looking garbage trucks and movers rolled around nearby, shoving piles of refuse into even bigger piles. Luka felt like he was going to gag, despite the facemask he'd been given by a bleary-eyed rookie cop.  
  
"Sanitation worker found the body," the cop told him as they walked toward Krasuljak. Two other duster-clad detectives were standing nearby, talking and scribbing into notepads. "He's pretty shook up. There's...uh...not much left of her. Seems she's been here quite a while."  
  
"A while? You mean, this might be an earlier murder?"  
  
"Yeah. Same MO, though. Mutilated face. Raped. Stabbed." The rookie tried to sound casual, as if he'd seen this kind of thing every day. Instead, he sounded shaken. "I got the call first. You okay, Doc?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine," Luka muttered, stumbling over what appeared to be the remains of a...oh God. He shuddered and turned away, not willing to look back at the dead *whatever* it was.  
  
"Dr. Kovac," she said, standing up. "Seems we got our wires crossed. We didn't need you to come here. It's...uh...we only needed you to help us with the victim's family."  
  
"Oh. Well. I can wait, then."  
  
She approached and stood facing him for a moment before turning back to look at the crime scene. He waited for a moment before stepping forward a little. "How is your father?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I said, how is your father? Is he still in hospital?"  
  
"Oh. Uh...no. He was released yesterday. It's kind of par for the course now. He goes to the hospital. He gets berated by doctors. He says he'll eat healthily and behave. He goes home. He doesn't eat healthily and wouldn't dream of behaving. He has another *episode*. Back to the hospital we go. How it'll stop...well, I don't even want to think about that."  
  
"Yeah." Luka looked down and winced at the sight of a pair of dirty Pampers that he was standing on. "Listen, maybe you want to get out of here? I mean...if you've done all you need to do...?"  
  
"And go where?!" she snapped. "It'll take enough time to ID the victim, then more time to track down her family, then it's paperwork and...and...interviews. This is a cold case, Dr. Kovac. We'll be lucky if she's ever identified. If she's a recent immigrant, that means her dental records are still in Europe. We have no way of obtaining fingerprints, because... rats..."  
  
Luka watched her as she talked, noting the strain in her face. She had circles under her eyes, and he could have sworn she looked like she'd been crying. "You're under a lot of stress."  
  
"Of course I am!" she shouted. "I've got eleven dead people on my hands. *Eleven*. And God knows how many more..."  
  
"That's why I'm suggesting you get out of here for a while. I could buy you a cup of coffee."  
  
"I don't need any damned coffee. I'm on a caffeine buzz already. Been up nearly forty-eight hours now." She rubbed her eyes.   
  
"Which means you need a break," Luka said. "Listen, I'm an emergency physician. I know what it's like to work long shifts without any rest. I've done it several times, and it's never easy. And going without sleep for long periods of time can be extremely dangerous to your health." He drew himself up to his full height, hoping to look officious and Surgeon-Generalish. "So just...relax a little and stop being such a...an over-achiever. You need to rest a bit, right? So a little break won't hurt."  
  
She glared at him. Luka felt a strange compulsion to reach out and touch her hair-to brush it back out of her eyes. He wondered if it was as silky as it looked, or if her skin was as soft...  
  
"A cup of coffee, huh? And maybe a danish?"  
  
"I said nothing about a danish," he countered. "Coffee was the only item I mentioned."  
  
"I haven't eaten in quite a while, either."  
  
"How can you eat after seeing that...and *this*?" He gestured to indicate the dump in general.  
  
"I don't know. I just know that I can. Is there any place...a *cheap* place...we can go?"  
  
"Yeah. There's a little bar I go to sometimes. A Croatian-owned establishment. Of course, there's a small legal issue you'll have to overlook..."  
  
"Oh?" She looked suspicious.  
  
He grinned. "Never mind."  
  
===============  
  
The Little Zagreb Bar and Grill was basically a dump. The neon sign that hung crookedly outside the door blinked "Li---- Zagr-- B-r & G----" and blinked sometimes, like a faulty bug zapper. Inside, the bar consisted basically of a long bar, a few random stools of various sizes and conditions, and a television hanging somewhat haphazardly from a slapdash contraption that had originally been the bottom of a hand-held shopping basket.  
  
"My God," Sky said. "This place would need several thousand dollars' worth of renovation to be called a *dive*."  
  
"Yeah, but the food is great and the beer is excellent. Not that you can *have* beer on the job, of course." Luka raised his hand slightly to greet a very tall man standing behind the bar.   
  
"Luka! What brings you here?"  
  
"An unmarked car," Luka answered in Croatian. "So be careful. This woman happens to be a cop and if she finds out about the Tubourg beer she'll become even *less* friendly. If that's possible."  
  
"What are you saying?" Sky asked him.  
  
"Never mind. Take a seat."  
  
"There?!" she said, staring in astonishment at the dilapidated table he'd pointed at.   
  
"Yeah. It's the cleanest table here." Luka pulled the chair back, brushed the peanut shells off the seat and grinned at Sky. "See?"  
  
She sat down, looking clearly disgusted. Luka returned to the bar, ordered his favorite dish: cevapcici, along with two bottles of strawberry/kiwi-flavored springwater. He had developed quite a taste for the stuff, and Dragan kept lots in stock, along with Tubourg beer-which had been illegally imported from Denmark. He grabbed the two ice-covered bottles and headed back to the table. She accepted the bottle from him and opened it, taking a tentative sip. "This is pretty good," she admitted. "What'dja order?"  
  
"You'll see. I think you'll like it."  
  
"What *is it*?" she demanded.  
  
"Ah, come on, Machka. Try a little variety in your life." He crossed his knees, straightening the crease in his pants, and picked up the copy of the Croatian paper somebody had left behind. Naturally, the headlines were about the serial killings. He read in silence for a moment, filtering the information through his mind, then looked at her. "Says here that the police are getting very help from the local government regarding the killings," he said, confused. "Why?"  
  
"I'm not sure why. Maybe it's the whole...immigrant issue. That sort of thing still exists, you know. My great-grandfather remembered people spitting in his face during the whole Red Scare...just because he was from a quasi-Communist country. And he wasn't even a Communist!"  
  
"Card-carrying Commie here," Luka grinned. She looked at him, alarmed, and he laughed. "I'm kidding. Hell, I hate politics of any kind. And have even less use for politicians."  
  
"Neither do I," she said, and he was alarmed at how miserable she looked. In the badly-lit room, she looked particularly tired and worn down. "But I suppose you have a better excuse for hating them."  
  
He shrugged. "You look...very tired."  
  
"This is a very stressful job."  
  
"Yeah, I suppose it is."  
  
"Y-Your's must be, too," she stammered. "And you probably get little credit for a job well done, too. The patient lives, it's usually credited to somebody else, right? But if he dies..."  
  
"Yeah." Luka took another drink of his sparkling water. "I get a lot of that."  
  
"Why, do you suppose? Is it 'cause you're foreign or because of something else?"  
  
"I don't know. I try not to worry about it too much. In my thirty-eight years, I've learned that the people who talk the most and the loudest usually don't what they're talking about." He glanced over and saw that Dragan was coming toward them, carrying a tray laden with two plates overflowing with grilled lamb and beef. "I look forward to being old and deaf, frankly. That way, I don't have to hear it at all. Ah, here's lunch." He watched Dragan place the dishes on the table.  
  
"What is this?" she asked, still suspicious.  
  
"It's called cevapcici," he told her. "Eat."  
  
===============  
  
The meal was, indeed, excellent. Forget the ambiance, Sky thought. Whatever that stuff was-lamb, beef, with a little bit of garlic and parsley-had been delicious. Still, she went into the ladies' room-doing her best to not actually *touch* anything-and dug in her bag for a breath mint. *Garlic*. Still, it hadn't been an overwhelming garlic taste. Just enough to give one bad breath.  
  
Stepping back out into the bar, she saw Kovac still seated at the table, talking now with the gigantic bartender-she believed she'd heard the name Dragan being used. The two men were obviously good friends, if Dragan's laughter and their easy banter meant anything. They were apparently teasing each other about something.  
  
"Detective Krasuljak...congratulate Dragan here. His wife just had twin boys!" Kovac told, her grinning. "He's the last of his family, so it's a great blessing." He switched back to Croatian and said something to the big man, who grinned proudly.  
  
"Congratulations, mister...uh...sir."  
  
"Dragan," the man grinned at her. "I speak English. Luka and I are distant cousins. Both raised in the same town in Dalmatia. I always figured he'd become a sailor, not a doctor.  
I still say he'd look better in uniform instead of those ugly green scrubs they're forced to wear at the hospital, eh?"  
  
Sky looked at Kovac, who was now standing. Yes, she thought. He'd look spectacular in uniform.  
  
"Sea life is not for me, Dragan. Not with my tricky stomach." He pulled his wallet out and began counting out bills. "What's the damage?"  
  
"I'll pay for my own," Sky said quickly, trying to grab the bill.   
  
"Are you kidding?" Luka asked, looking at her sharply.   
  
"If you pay the bill," she said, between clenched teeth, "this was a date!"  
  
"Oh?"   
  
"Yes. And we are *not* dating. Don't you have a girlfriend?"  
  
"I do, yes." He nodded, again evaded her attempts to grab the bill, and handed Dragan several bills. "And she would be horrified if I took a woman to lunch and didn't pay for her meal."  
  
"Well, she is *French*, isn't she?" she said snidely. "All that Continental flair."  
  
Kovac turned and studied Sky, eyes narrowed. "Your hostility is greatly appreciated, Machka."  
  
"Stop calling me that!" she shouted, losing what little remained of her temper. "I didn't ask you to bring me here, and I sure as hell didn't ask you to buy me lunch!"  
  
"No, you didn't. I was trying to be nice. Big mistake, huh?"  
  
"Shut up and take me back to the station!" She was spitting mad now, and she couldn't figure out why. Damn him. Nobody was ever nice to her without there being ulterior motives. There had to be a catch somewhere underneath his polished manners and *politeness*. No guy that good-looking could nice for the sake of being nice, could he?  
  
"Fine. But you forget that you're the one driving, not me, so you'll need to drop me off at my hotel. Like you said, it might take a while to ID the woman you found today."  
  
She snatched up her bag, turned and stalked from the bar. She gave brief thought to just abandoning him here at this...*dump*...but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. Instead, she turned the engine over, turned the radio on and listened to Fiona Apple moan,  
  
  
Heaven please send to all mankind  
Understanding and peace of mind  
But if it's not asking too much  
Please send me someone to love  
Someone to love  
  
Show the world how to get along  
And peace we'll enter when hate is gone  
2But if it is not asking too much  
Please send me someone to love  
Please send me someone to love  
  
I lie awake nights and ponder a world of trouble  
And my answer is always the same  
That unless man put an end to this damn all of sin  
Hate will put the world in a flame, what a shame  
  
Just because I am in misery  
I don't beg for no sympathy  
But if it is not asking too much  
Please send me someone to love  
Please send me someone to love  
  
Just because I'm in misery  
I don't beg for no sympathy  
But if it's not asking too much  
Please send me someone to love  
Please send me someone to love  
  
Heaven please send to all mankind  
Understanding and peace of mind  
But if it is not asking too much  
Please send me someone to love  
  
===============  
  
"What's with her?" Dragan asked Luka.  
  
"I have *no* idea," Luka answered, rubbing his forehead. "She's a strange woman."  
  
"Yeah. Reminds me of a kitten."  
  
Luka laughed. "You too? Hey, do you have any kremšnite?"  
  
He bought several of the delicious pastries, then headed back out into the bright sunlight. It took him a moment to adjust to the bright winter sunshine, then headed over to her car. She was listening to the radio, leaning back, wearing sunglasses. She didn't turn her head to look at him.   
  
Getting into the car, he offered her a pastry. "Try this. I think you'll like it."  
  
"What makes you think that?" she snapped. "Listen, Kovac. I don't see why you're plying me with strawberry-flavored water, grilled meat and...and *pastries*. But if it's some kind of ploy on your part, I'm not buyin' it. I've had guys try to trick me before, and they paid for it. So what's your angle?"  
  
"Angle?"  
  
"Yes! Your angle. You tryin' to get in my pants or something? Be advised that I am extremely skilled in self-defense, besides which I have six older brothers who would be *happy* to beat you into a tiny, wet, bleeding pulp for trying anything with me. Got it?"  
  
"God, what the hell is wrong with you?" he snarled. "I'm getting awfully tired of your hostility, Sky. My intentions were nothing more than to bring you some damned *pastries*, all right? I thought you'd *like* them." He shoved the box at her, and she fumbled with it for a moment.   
  
"Well, I don't like them!" she snapped, angrily pulling her sunglasses off. "I don't like sweets."  
  
"Really? I'm surprised you even know the meaning of the word 'sweet'. I guess that means you only like bitter things, right? Because you're so full of bitterness it's a wonder you don't shrivel up. Did some guy hurt you once?"  
  
"I am not bitter! And nobody hurts me!"  
  
"Oh, that's a bunch of crap! And what is this, then? A guy brings you a box of perfectly good pastries and you act like he's just tried to..."  
  
"To what?!"  
  
That irritated Luka so much that he did exactly what he'd been about to say. He grabbed her arm, pulled her to him, and kissed her. A good, hard, deep kiss, to teach her a lesson. He put his hand at the back of her neck, lifting her head up a bit for better access. She kept her mouth firmly closed, but he wasn't going to let go until he'd had a good taste, too. A tiny amount of pressure was applied and her mouth opened. He forgot his anger almost immediately-her sweetness surprised him, and he murmured softly and molded his mouth to hers, sliding his tongue against her lower lip for a moment, teasing gently before he invaded, tasting her mouth, making contact with her tongue. She made a soft gasping sound-or maybe it was a moan. He wasn't sure. All he knew was that she was just as soft as he'd imagined. And she was responding to the kiss. Maybe it was his imagination, but he could have sworn she murmured with pleasure, too, and that her hand touched his hair. But only for a moment.   
  
He pulled away before she really had a chance to react. Her hands were resting on his shoulders, but he didn't remember her pushing against him. She was staring up at him, eyes wide. Her eyes were *blue*. Blue as the sky. Pretty appropriate, he thought. And he thought about kissing her again. Instead, he just brushed her hair out of her eyes. Then he pulled away from her.   
  
She started the car and backed out of the parking lot. The drive to the hotel was in silence, neither of them daring to look at each other, neither sure of how to handle what had happened. When he got out of the car, he offered the box of pastries again, and this time, she accepted it. But she didn't look at him. Instead, she gunned the engine and drove away, tires squealing.   
  
He stood on the sidewalk, trying to process everything in his mind. One thing he knew he had to do...he had to talk to Juliette.  
  
  
To be continued... 


	6. Citizen X (Part 6)

TITLE: Citizen X (Part 6/?)  
AUTHOR: Miesque  
DISCLAIMER: The characters from "ER" are the sole property of NBC, Amblin Entertainment and Warner Bros. They are only being used in this fanfiction series for entertainment purposes and no profit is being made by the author. Sadly enough.   
RATING: PG-13 (mild language, sexual situations)  
SETTING: End of season seven into season eight  
CATEGORY: Luka Kovac/original character; drama, mystery, romance, blah blah blah...  
ARCHIVE: If you must  
SPOILERS: For season seven & eight   
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to Ellen Hursh for feedback and suggestions.  
  
===============  
  
"Sky? What on earth are you doing here?"   
  
Maureen Krasuljak stared at her daughter, totally unprepared to see her at this hour. The younger woman looked stressed and rather confused.  
  
"Can't I come in?" Sky asked.  
  
"Of course you can, honey. I'm just kind of...I didn't expect to see you, I guess. It's five in the morning."  
  
"Is it? Oh. Yeah." She stepped over the threshold and into the hall, shedding her duster and hanging it on the coatrack. "I guess I woke you up?"  
  
"Yes, but that's all right. I needed to get up anyway."  
  
"We're having a really rough time with the serial killer...we found another body yesterday. The eleventh so far."  
  
"Oh, no..."  
  
"And there's more...there's a doctor that I'm working with. A Croatian-born doctor. He's... I'm...we don't get along very well, see?" Sky wanted to cover her face with her hands. He *kissed* me, she thought. This is so humiliating.   
  
"Yes?"  
  
"And...and...he's like a go-between for us. The Croatian community sort of looks up to him. He's one of them and I'm an outsider. I mean, I'm Croatian, too. Is it my fault I don't speak the language?"  
  
"Well, you didn't exactly pay attention when your great-grandfather..."  
  
"But if I spoke the language, then there'd be no use for Luka, right?"  
  
"Luka?"  
  
"I mean, no use for him in the investigation. He translates for victims' families, for Croatian witnesses. He's very compassionate, and he has excellent instincts. Better instincts that me, I think."  
  
"Well, honey, you have superb instincts," Maureen countered. "I've always said that you..."  
  
"But who the hell is he, to tell me that I'm hostile? I'm not hostile, am I?"  
  
"Well, you have been known to..."  
  
"I can be a little *aggressive* sometimes. I can be a little...*passionate*!" Sky felt her cheeks becoming warm and knew she was blushing. He *kissed* me! "I can be a little forward and even get in people's faces, but isn't that necessary if you're trying to hunt down a psychotic *killer*? I mean, I've got to find this guy. I have to. He's killing innocent human beings, and it wouldn't matter if they were Croatian or anybody else."  
  
"Well, the fact that they are Croatians..."  
  
"And he doesn't have to make me into some kind of charity case, either. Buying me lunch and then giving me pastries and...and..."  
  
"Pastries?"  
  
"He...it isn't fair! Nobody's nice to me unless they want something!"  
  
"He was nice to you?"  
  
"Yes! How weird is that?!"  
  
"Well, I wouldn't say it was weird, honey. Perhaps he likes you..."  
  
"He doesn't like me. And I don't like him." She nodded firmly. "He's arrogant and stuck up and...and..."  
  
"Devastatingly handsome?"  
  
"That too, but that's not important. From now on, it's pure professionalism. No...no... unnecessary fraternization. No more personal conversations."  
  
"Well..."  
  
"He had no right to ask me if some guy had hurt me," Sky said, hugging herself defensively. "Like it was any of his damned business anyway!"  
  
"Well, Tommy Watson did hurt..."  
  
"He thinks that just by giving me some pastries...and I'll admit, they were great...that he can...can make me go all gooey, right? Yeah, right! Like hell it will. Nobody tricks Sky Krasuljak!"  
  
"Maybe he's not trying to trick you. Not all men are like..."  
  
"Least of all *him*. I won't let him hurt me." Sky drew a shuddering breath. "Thanks for the advice, Mom. I've got to get back to work." She kissed Maureen on the cheek, grabbed her duster, and marched out of the house, a look of resolution on her face. Maureen watched her go, and laughed to herself.  
  
"Hey, Maureen, who was that?" Thomas Krasuljak called from upstairs.  
  
"Your daughter."  
  
"Oh. What'd she want?"  
  
"Nothing much. She was just venting."  
  
"Oh? What about?"  
  
"She's in love, I suspect. She's all lit up, like a Roman candle."  
  
"Oh?" Thomas appeared at the top of the stairs, dressed in his bathroom. "Who's the lucky guy?"  
  
"Not sure yet. I think his name is Luka. She was kind of babbling a bit. I can't wait to see this guy!"  
  
"Maureen," Thomas grinned when she reached the top of the stairs and slipped her arms around his waist, hugging him warmly. "Stop drooling."  
  
===============  
  
"You don't hold it against me?" Luka asked nervously, fighting the urge to chew on his fingernails. Juliette was seated beside him at the bar, looking amused.  
  
"How could I hold anything against you, mon cher? We both knew this relationship wasn't going to last. This was your rebound fling. And we had a lot of fun together. But of course...I know why you decided to break it off."  
  
"You do?" He stared at her, pretending he didn't know what she was talking about.  
  
"Of course I do. Now, all you have to do is admit it to yourself." Juliette kissed him on the cheek. "We are not lovers any more. But we are always going to be very good friends. I would hate for our friendship to end."  
  
"Yeah, so would I," he grinned. "You were so good to me, Juliette. If there's anything I can ever do for you...you've done so much for me, after all."  
  
"Well, there is a rather large credit card debt," she said with a wicked grin.  
  
"Don't push it!"  
  
She laughed and hugged him. "Now, Luka. Now it's time for you to go after what you really need. She *is* out there, you know. Your soulmate."  
  
He gave a skeptical snort, and hugged her. "I'll keep you posted, then," he said, kissing her on the forehead.   
  
"You know I'm always here to listen, Luka. *Always*."  
  
"You don't think I'm a horrible cad? That I treated you badly? I mean...Juliette...I basically used you."  
  
"Maybe I was using you," she smiled enigmatically. "But in this situation, it was nice to be used. And I wouldn't call it using anyway. You needed someone to help you get over Abby, and I enjoyed your company and the time we had together. You're practically healed. Now...tell me what happened between you and Sky."  
  
Luka paled, then shrugged. "I kissed her."  
  
"Oh..." She rolled her eyes and laughed. "About damned time!"  
  
"Come on, Juliette. Give me a break here!"  
  
"I am giving you a break. It was a passionate kiss, right? Maybe a little anger, some frustration? Mutual attraction, sparks flying, hmm?"  
  
"I don't know if it's mutual," he muttered, taking another drink of his coffee.   
  
"But you are attracted to her, yes? She has much potential. She just needs a little more confidence."  
  
"She has plenty of that!" Luka said wearily. "The worst temper I've ever seen on a woman. So hostile..."  
  
"Purely a defense mechanism," Juliette smiled. "I mean, really, Luka. Look at her. She is beautiful, yes, but she doesn't know it. Underneath that...how do you say? *Brittle* attitude is a very shy, insecure woman who just needs a bit of ego boosting. Not too much, of course. But a little self-love is good for everyone. You could teach her that, I think."  
  
Luka shrugged, but he knew Juliette was right. All Sky needed was a little kindness, some self-confidence and she'd be stopping traffic.   
  
"So...you're really not upset?" he asked.  
  
"No," she smiled. "I'm happy for you. And I hope to find someone some day-someone I can feel that kind of passion for, where the only thing I can think to do is to kiss him. That's what love is. Explosive. Overwhelming. Like an earthquake or a tidal wave. It knocks you over, turns you upside down, makes you crazy and totally irrational."  
  
===============  
  
"Can you tell her that we're working as hard as we can?" Sky said, looking at Luka. When he met her gaze, she looked away, fidgeting nervously with her pen.   
  
She listened as Luka translated quickly, making eye contact with the stoically silent woman sitting opposite them in the little room. He'd already removed his jacket and loosened his tie, as the room was uncomfortably warm. He apparently hadn't shaved that morning, so there was stubble on his jaw, and his eyes looked tired.   
  
Mrs. Zganjar flicked her eyes to Sky, then back at Luka. "She has a Croatian name but does not speak the language? Is she ashamed of who she is?"  
  
"No, I doubt that," Luka answered. "I..."  
  
"She forgets her heritage, doesn't she? She wants to hide it, right?"  
  
"You're not being fair, Mrs. Zganjar."  
  
"Maybe she will feel more Croatian when this monster hurts someone she loves!"  
  
"What is she saying?" Sky asked nervously.  
  
"Nothing. She's...she's...uh...very upset. Her mind...is gone. She is grieving."  
  
"She sounds more angry than grieved," Sky said, looking at Mrs. Zganjar, who glared at her with hostile eyes.  
  
"She is angry," Luka answered. "Her daughter was murdered and there's no clue as to who did it."  
  
"We have clues," Sky answered, her voice barely a whisper. "Thin man with scraggly white hair and a moustache."  
  
"Albert Einstein with a knife. I suppose it could be worse. It could Einstein with a hydrogen bomb."  
  
She glanced at him, then resumed fidgeting with her pen. Luka, frustrated, snatched it from her.   
  
"Sit still!"  
  
She snatched the pen back, and their fingers brushed against each other. She turned red and chewed on her lip. "Please tell her we're very sorry...we're doing the best we can. We *will* find the killer."  
  
Luka glanced at Sky, and she wished she didn't have these damned circles under her eyes, or the lines of exhaustion around her mouth. She looked at his mouth, and remembered how it had felt against her own. His tongue and his... Sky looked away, flustered. Had he touched her with his hands, anyway? She couldn't remember.  
  
"Thank you for coming, Mrs. Zganjar," Luka said quickly. "We are doing the best...I mean, *the police* are doing the best they can. Miss Krasuljak is doing her best. She wants to find the person who did this. I know *I* appreciate her efforts."  
  
"What did you say about me?" Sky said, having recognized her name being mentioned.  
  
"Nothing," Luka said. He handed her the paper on which he'd transcribed the woman's statements in his clear, bold script. "You look like you need some rest."  
  
"I rested yesterday. Today, I work."  
  
"Right. Because not being well-rested is extremely helpful in the investigation of a string of serial murders, right?  
  
"I don't need your sarcasm," she snapped as soon as Mrs. Zganjar was out of the room. "I have a job to do."  
  
"Yeah." He picked up his coffee. "It's not like I enjoy hanging out in police stations."  
  
"I'm amazed you haven't before."  
  
"I did once," Luka answered. "Not this particular station, of course. Another precinct."  
  
"Oh? Why?"  
  
"I killed a guy."  
  
Sky swallowed. "Wh-what?"  
  
"A mugger. He attacked me and my date...it was our first date. Hit me with a metal pipe. I woke up and...well, I basically reduced his brains to mush. But the police deemed it justifiable homicide-self defense. And the mugger turned out to be a John Doe. So...I killed a man with almost no outside consequences. Just a lot of guilt."  
  
"You felt guilty," she stated softly.  
  
"Yes. I did. I do."  
  
"You're only human," Sky said. "And a doctor at that. Your job is to heal, right?"  
  
"Um, hello...I killed a guy, Machka."  
  
"I've killed people," she said. She took her gun out of her holster. He stared at it for a moment, and she felt terrible. He was probably terrified of guns, considering where he was from, what he'd been through. "In the line of duty."  
  
"I probably tried to save a few of the guys you shot," Luka countered mildly. "And thought nothing of it, because it was my job. It was probably only later that I thought about what they did that caused them to be shot."  
  
"The wages of sin is death," Sky said softly.   
  
"Quoting Holy Writ at me now, huh?" he smiled. "And you're right. But that still doesn't justify me killing a man with my bare hands."  
  
"Oh? He attacked you, was apparently intent on harming you severely or at least killing you. Defending yourself isn't a sin."  
  
"Murder is a sin."  
  
"Self defense isn't murder."  
  
"According to...?"  
  
"Any rational person."  
  
"Then maybe I'm not terribly rational. Maybe I'm just Dr. Irrational, here to save the world." He pulled his jacket back on. "I have to get back to work. Try not to send me any patients, eh?"  
  
Sky watched him leave, processing what he'd said through her mind. He'd killed a man. Luka Kovac. And yet...she had only ever seen him as an intelligent, compassionate and decent person. She didn't like him, of course, she told herself stubbornly. But she admired him. He was dedicated to his job, to his community and to some great Higher Ideal that had been lost to her for a long time, right up until these murders had started.   
  
At least she knew of his dark side. At least now he was more real, with more dimensions, more layers. Every time she met him, it seemed like she learned some new and astounding thing about him. She picked up the paper where he'd transcribed Mrs. Zganjar's comments, and read it over. Something caught her eye, then...  
  
'...she had a date that night, with an old boyfriend. They were going to a nightclub and he promised to have her home at eleven o'clock. When she did not return, I called him and he told me they had a fight and she refused to leave the club with him, and had said she would get a ride home with friends...'  
  
Why hadn't Kovac caught that?! she wanted to yell. Instead, she grabbed her duster and dashed out the door. "Which way did Dr. Kovac go?" she asked Captain Sweeney, who was emerging from his office.  
  
"Beats me," he answered. "Got a lead, Krasuljak?"  
  
"Yes! Franja Zganjar had a date the night she was killed. Her mother didn't say the date's name, but apparently Kovac didn't catch the importance of the statement during transcription. I need to speak with him...maybe the mother said something more."  
  
"All right. Well, then, track him down."  
  
===============  
  
Luka felt bone-weary already. He stood for a moment, head against his locker door. Being in the same room with Sky, after such a passionate kiss...it had been almost *painful*. And trying to appear cool and confident around her had been an acting job worthy of an Academy Award. And he still couldn't figure out why he'd blurted out the whole story about the mugger to her. Next thing you know, Kovac, you'll be telling her all about Danijela and the children and...  
  
"Dr. Kovac?" Chuny called. "Have you seen Dr. Dave?"  
  
"No," Luka answered, looping his stethoscope around his neck. "Is he on call right now?"  
  
"Yeah. We got a disimpaction he was supposed to have done about an hour ago. Lady's in exam two, lookin' mighty...*impacted*," Chuny grinned. "Dr. Weaver has him on scut duty today after  
the Baseball Bat Incident yesterday."  
  
Luka snickered to himself. Dave had started playing around with a kid's metal bat yesterday afternoon, and then decided to show off to a candy striper by hitting a tennis ball down the hall. Unfortunately, the tennis ball had bounced right off a wheelchair and into the path of a med student carrying a tray of fecal samples. Things had gotten kind of...ugly...after that.  
The poor student had had to take a trip up to orthodontics for emergency tooth replacement surgery, and environmental services hadn't been terribly enthused about cleaning up the mess. The patients waiting in chairs had also complained loudly about the smell.  
  
"Where's the disimpaction again?" Luka asked wearily. Lovely way to start your day, he thought.  
  
"Exam two. Sorry, Dr. Kovac. But the woman ain't feelin' too good."  
  
"Yeah. I can imagine. Had a feeling something would...ahem...*impact* my day."  
  
Chuny laughed and followed him back out.   
  
===============  
  
"There you go, Mrs. Silvano. You're feeling better now?" Luka asked, removing the latex gloves.   
  
"Oh, yes. Thanks, Doctor."   
  
"Yeah. Your husband is on his way to pick you up?"  
  
"Yes. Oh...could I ask a favor of you?"  
  
Luka looked back at her, wondering nervously. "Uh..."  
  
"My husband is diabetic, and we use those test strips. I can't remember what they're called, though. But he needs a new box...he never can seem to remember to call for a new prescription...""  
  
"Accu-Check?"  
  
"No. No...umm..."  
  
Luka went over the list in his mind, and began ticking them off. "Bayer, Lifesense, One-Touch...?"  
  
"One-Touch!"  
  
"Ah. Yes. I can write a new prescription for your husband, ma'am," he said. "Just let me go find a box or two for you. Meanwhile, the nurse can help you get dressed if you like."  
  
"Oh, thank you, Dr. Kovac. I really appreciate it."  
  
He nodded and headed back out into the hall, where he met up with Chuny again. "Could you please help Mrs. Silvano get dressed again? And I need to find a box of One-Touch diabetic test-strips. Are there any in the drug lockup?"  
  
"Probably not, but you can check," Chuny shrugged. "If there's not any, there'll be a lot of boxes in the basement."  
  
"Okay. Thanks, Chuny." He headed to the drug lockup and, just as Chuny had guessed, there were no test strips to be found *there*. Sighing, he went to the front desk and informed Kerry that he was going downstairs and would be back in a few minutes.   
  
"Luka," she said, putting her hand on his arm. "You look terrible."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"I mean...have you been sleeping well lately? How are things going with the murder investigations?"  
  
"Not well," he said. "But I'm okay, Kerry. Really. But thank you for asking."  
  
She smiled slightly and watched him walk away, then returned wearily to her work.   
  
===============  
  
Luka was getting frustrated. One closet seemed to be something out of a Marx Brothers movie. The moment he opened it, all kinds of cleaning supplies tumbled out on him, including a haphazardly-closed bottle of what appeared to be Windex. Groaning, he set to work, piling it all back in (a little more *neatly*), then banged the door shut, muttering under his breath.   
  
He paused when he heard a strange sound, and wondered if Maintenance had put down rat traps. He listened carefully for a moment, wondering where the sound was coming from and making a mental note to go in the opposite direction if he heard it again. But...no, no, it was probably his imagination.   
  
He continued along, opening doors and stepping in, fumbling around in badly lit rooms for the boxes of One-Touch strips he needed. Groaning and hoping there were no spiders in his hair or in his clothes, he paced down the hall and opened yet another door. He turned on the light and for a moment just stood there, stunned.  
  
Abby and Dave sprang apart, which revealed that they were both...*naked*.   
  
"My God, Dave, I thought you had better taste than this!"  
  
"Dr. Kovac!" Dave gasped, wiping his mouth and scrambling to his feet, grabbing his shirt to cover up a bit.   
  
Luka just shook his head, amazed. Abby was trying desperately to cover herself. "Abby, I've already seen you naked. But I suggest you both get dressed and get upstairs. Now."  
  
"Uh...uh...Dr. Kovac...we were..."  
  
"Just finishing up? Sorry, but I'm afraid this little interlude is over. Dr. Malucci, you left a patient waiting. Abby..." He shook his head. "A med student having sex with a resident while you're *both* on duty? Did you both have a blinding attack of overwhelming stupidity today?"  
  
Luka turned and headed back out into the hall and waited. In a few minutes, they both emerged from the closet, tucking shirt tails in, heads bowed, neither speaking or looking at each other. Abby brushed past Luka and he watched her leave, then he turned back to Dave. "Dave, I can't believe you'd do a thing like this. You have made so many mistakes in the past few months...is this really worth your *career*?"  
  
"You're...you're gonna report this?" Dave gasped.  
  
"I have to, don't I?" Luka snapped.   
  
"I don't see why!" Dave shouted. "It's not like Abby is just a kid, you know. She's the one who wanted to come down here, anyway!"  
  
"Yeah. At least she didn't wait until you were at your very worst and then take advantage of you, huh? But it doesn't matter who initiated *what*. You were having sex in this hospital while on the clock. On *hospital* time, making patients wait, possibly endangering lives. What if we'd had a lot of patients come in at once and we couldn't find you?"  
  
Dave couldn't look at Luka. He hung his head again, staring at his feet.   
  
"Come on, Dave."   
  
Luka turned and headed back up the hall, carrying three boxes of test strips and knowing a promising young doctor's career was about to come to a crashing, ignominious halt.  
  
===============  
  
It had been ugly, that was for sure. Luka was glad to get out of the conference room, away from the animosity directed at him by Abby. Dave had quickly lost any resentment toward Luka, and had quietly cleaned out his locker and left without saying goodbye to anyone-except Luka. He went out of his way to come into exam two and shook the older doctor's hand. "I screwed up. What can I say? Can't make any excuses, can I?"  
  
"No."  
  
Luka had to admit, he admired Dave's calm acceptance of his situation. Abby, however...he felt her angry eyes on him throughout the brief meeting. Kerry, Mark, Susan Lewis, and Dr. Romano had sat opposite Dave and Abby, neither of whom spoke. Luka calmly recounted what he'd seen and asked to be excused. "You have to vote, Luka," Kerry said. "On whether we allow either Abby or Dave to remain on staff."  
  
"I refuse to vote," Luka answered. He ignored Abby's enraged glare. "It would be unfair, since Abby and I had a prior relationship. I'm not exactly a disinterested party." Just a totally *uninterested* party, he thought. What really startled him, however, was that he wanted to talk to Sky. He wanted to tell her about it and see what she thought about it. He was sure she'd have a few choice words on the matter.   
  
Having escaped from the conference room, Luka headed across the street to Doc Magoo's. He sat down at the bar, ordered a bottle of Michelob and glanced over to see Abby sitting at the end of the bar. She was drinking a beer, too. She looked up and saw Luka, and glared at him, eyes cold and angry.  
  
"Thank you, Luka, for destroying my career," she said coldly. "What else do you wanna do? Let the air out of my tires?"  
  
Luka shook his head and ignored her. But she got up and made her way over, already stumbling a bit. "You *BASTARD!*" she screamed, causing everyone in the bar to look up, alarmed. "And I know why you reported it, too. You want to get back together with me, so you reported me and Dave to Kerry 'cause you were jealous, right?"  
  
"Hm?" Luka answered mildly. "Did you say something?"  
  
"I know you were in love with me," she continued to shout. "You wanna get back together with me, too, right? Your little French *whore* dumped you and now you're wantin' it again, right?"  
  
"It?" Luka was determined to keep calm, though he was not going to let her get away with calling Juliette a whore. Not by a long shot.  
  
"Yeah, *it*! I was the best thing that ever happened to you. I stuck by you through all your dark days, didn't I?"  
  
"Yes, you did, Abby. Like a leech." He took a sip of his beer. "You sucked away at my soul until there was almost nothing left. However, somehow, I managed to grow my spine back and kicked you to the curb. And it's interesting that a certain type of woman spends a great deal of time standing on the curb, huh?" He paid for the bottle, warning the bartender, with a gesture, to keep out of their discussion.   
  
"You want me back!" she snarled. "Admit it!"  
  
"Umm...nope. I don't. Why would I want you back? Are you not taking *your* meds, Abby? First of all, I would rather be attacked by a pack of rabid wolves than try to get back with you again. Secondly...I have another lady in mind. A woman who is a great deal more attractive, with an actual personality and a chin, besides having some passion and integrity. And thirdly...well, thirdly ties in with firstly: you're a slut. Get help, Abby."  
  
He heard the door open and glanced over to see Sky Krasuljak coming in. He lifted his head slightly and nodded in her direction, and she started over.   
  
"Oh, is that the woman?" Abby sneered. "What, you're into ugly now?"   
  
Luka hoped Sky hadn't heard that. He wished he hadn't heard that. He glared at her for a long time. "You know, it's a good thing you've been kicked out of school, Abby," he said. "Because it spares me the task of having to work with you. And it spares patients the horror of having you treat them. If I were you, I'd go sober up."  
  
Abby's face darkened into a scowl, and she turned and stalked-well, staggered-away.   
  
"Hello, Sky," Luka said.  
  
"Who was that?" she asked, then pulled back, apparently embarrassed at having asked a personal question.  
  
"Ex-girlfriend."  
  
"She doesn't look like..."  
  
"Juliette? No. Abby is...very much an ex. As 'ex' as you can get, without actually being dead. Wanna beer?"  
  
"No, thank you. Still on duty. I wanted to talk with you about the woman we interviewed this morning. Mrs. Zganjar? She said something that interested me, and I wanted to know why you didn't mention it during translation."  
  
"Huh?" He rubbed his forehead, confused.  
  
"She mentioned her daughter going on a date with a guy the night she was murdered. That she refused to leave the nightclub with him and was going to get a ride home with friends. Do you remember that?"  
  
"Oh, yeah." He moaned. "I guess I didn't notice that." He didn't look at her. Instead, he turned away, trying to collect himself. Mrs. Zganjar had been saying all that while Sky had been chewing on a pen. Never had oral fixation proved so utterly...erotic to Luka before, and he'd been forced to simply concentrate on everything the woman was saying without actually *listening*. Translate words and just *write*, he had told himself that morning.  
  
"You weren't paying attention, then?" Sky asked, and he didn't appreciate the smug look on her face. He wondered, for a moment, what it'd take to get rid of it. However he did it, he'd be the one looking smug afterwards...even if it meant a big red handprint on his cheek.  
  
"No, I don't guess I was," he snapped back, temper rising. "But I guess I'm not as perfect as you."  
  
"Never said I was perfect," she answered coolly. "We'll have to bring her back tomorrow for another interview, more questions about Franja's boyfriend. Since she had his telephone number, that's a lead. We might be able to bring him in for questioning."  
  
"Great. Just great," Luka nodded. "A lead is a lead."  
  
"Yes. I'll see you later, Dr. Kovac."  
  
"Yeah. Later." He tipped his beer bottle in her direction in a kind of mock salute, then turned back to the bar. She stood for a moment, staring at him, then turned and stalked out. Once he was sure she was gone, he glanced up at the bartender, who slid another bottle toward him.  
  
"Got women all over you, huh?"  
  
"Yeah. And the only interesting one is...well, you know."  
  
The bartender grinned and shrugged. "We can't live without 'em, can we?"  
  
"No. Definitely not."  
  
  
To be continued... 


	7. Citizen X (Part 7)

TITLE: Citizen X (Part 7/?)  
AUTHOR: Miesque  
DISCLAIMER: The characters from "ER" are the sole property of NBC, Amblin Entertainment and Warner Bros. They are only being used in this fanfiction series for entertainment purposes and no profit is being made by the author. Sadly enough.   
RATING: PG-13 (mild language, sexual situations)  
SETTING: End of season seven into season eight  
CATEGORY: Luka Kovac/original character; drama, mystery, romance, blah blah blah...  
ARCHIVE: If you must  
SPOILERS: For season seven & eight   
SONG: 'Let's Call the Whole Thing Off', written by George and Ira Gershwin  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to Ellen Hursh for feedback and suggestions.  
  
===============  
  
Mrs. Zganjar was even more hostile toward Sky than yesterday, and Luka had to resist an urge to start shouting at the ungrateful woman, but he had to remember her anger and grief. He had felt much the same way, ten years ago. He carefully wrote down everything the woman said about her daughter's boyfriend, even asking questions of his own that Sky didn't think of. Of course, he figured it was best to consult with her before he asked, and every time he did, she looked...surprised? At least she didn't look angry, he thought.  
  
"There you go," he said, sliding the papers toward her. "I don't think I missed anything this time."  
  
Sky perused the paper carefully, then looked up at him. "Roger Sinclair. This guy's not Croatian."  
  
"Yeah. Not really surprising, I guess. Do you think he's a suspect?"  
  
"I don't really think he's the one who did it, if that's what you mean. But that's just a guess on my part."  
  
Luka leaned back in his chair, stretching tired muscles. "Probably a good guess, anyway. No mystery is ever solved that easily."  
  
They stared at each other for a moment, gazes locking and then nervously looking away.   
  
"Oh...I'm doing a bit of target practice today...uh...are you familiar with guns?"  
  
Luka decided to evade that question. "Target practice? Can I watch?"  
  
"Sure. I mean...if you have nothing else to do..."  
  
"I'm off today. In fact, I'm off for the next three days. I could use some free entertainment."   
  
That got him a sour look and rolled eyes, but he wasn't really looking at her eyes. He was looking, instead, at her mouth.   
  
"Sure, Kovac. All right." She stood up and they headed toward the firing range, neither speaking, making sure they didn't come in contact with each other. When they passed the desk of Det. Diane Geary, however, Sky couldn't keep from pausing ever so briefly. Luka stepped back to look at her, then over her shoulder at the other detective, who was staring up at him in amazement.  
  
"Hi, Sky. Who...ah...who is this?"  
  
"This is Dr. Luka Kovac. He's helping with the Citizen X killings."  
  
"Is that what they're calling him now?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Interesting," Diane said, but her eyes were on Luka. "Taking some...umm...shooting lessons from Sky, eh, Dr. Kovac?"  
  
"Eh? Oh, no. Just watching."  
  
"Oh? You like to watch?" Diane asked with a slow, sexy smirk. Sky glared at her, then looked at Luka, who was appraising Geary with cool disinterest.  
  
"Only Peter Sellers movies," he answered.  
  
Sky had trouble keeping from smiling. She turned, resisting the urge to grab Luka's arm and pull him down the hall.   
  
"What was that all about?" he asked as they continued down the hall.  
  
"Hmm? Oh, nothing. Right through here," she said, nodding toward a door that said 'Firing Range'.   
  
===============  
  
Luka watched as Sky put on the earphones, assumed police stance and began firing away. She nailed each point of the target pretty well, but he couldn't call it perfect marksmanship. It was either her or the gun, but she was off-center by degrees with each shot. He had never been fond of the Glock anyway. It was too heavy, and there was something about the balance of the weapon that was off-putting. But he'd never had much trouble with them. In fact, on good days, he had no trouble hitting the target perfectly each time, even when 'fanning'.  
  
He stood slightly behind her, ears covered with the same protective gear. When she was finished, she holstered the gun and punched the button for the target paper to be brought forward. She peered at the holes, then glanced at him. Luka smiled slightly. "Very good!"  
  
"Not perfect," she said, frustrated.  
  
"Oh. Well, maybe it's an off day?"  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" she snapped. "This hasn't been an off day at all."  
  
"Oh? Lack of sleep, overwork, stress...yes, I'd say it was an off day."  
  
"Oh yeah? All right, you try hitting the target, *Doctor*." She went over and grabbed another Glock. She shoved a clip in and twirled it easily in her hand, giving it to him handle first.  
Luka bit his lip for a moment, to contain his amusement.  
  
"Now...I point this end at the target, right?" Luka said, pointing the handle toward the targets and the muzzle at himself.  
  
"No, stupid!" she snapped. "You're joking with me, right? Is it even safe to let you hold that thing?"  
  
"Sure it is!" he said, feigning offense. "Just watch!"  
  
With one arm extended, letting his knees relax and his elbow lock, to minimize kickback. Luka took steady aim and started firing. First, the eyes. Then the nose. Then the mouth. Then one straight through the heart. Finally, straight through the...well, he felt kinda guilty about that, but that was the nature of the game. You want to take out the enemy, do it efficiently, his sharpshooting instructors had said. He turned, expertly released the empty clip and let it drop to the floor.  
  
"Wow!" he exclaimed cheerfully. "That was really good for my first time, huh?" He twirled the gun, cowboy-style, and grinned at her.  
  
She snatched the gun from his hand, hissing, "Where did you learn to shoot like that?" She punched the button and the target swept toward them. She peered at the holes, and winced when she heard the field operator call out, "Aisle six. Six shots. Perfect score."  
  
"Croatian Army," he smiled. "I was a sharpshooter. Didn't even know I had it in me, really, until I joined up. When they discovered my 'talents'...well, I was in special forces. I remember my captain cried the day I told them I wanted out. He figured I'd end up a Major General."  
  
Sky looked astounded. "Why didn't you stay? In the Army, I mean?"  
  
"Medicine was my calling, not military service. Never really liked Glocks. This one tends to shoot a little to the right...maybe...oh, ten degrees, I think."  
  
"Don't tell me, Kovac. You've also never played poker, right?"  
  
"Poker? What's poker?"  
  
She rolled her eyes and threw the Glock in the bin. He was clearly enjoying himself at her expense. "And I also don't know how to play pool. Or darts, or snooker or indoor tiddlywinks..."  
  
"Kovac! Shut up!"  
  
"Now, you might have a chance with foosball..."  
  
"I said, *shut up*!"  
  
===============  
  
Luka was in a good mood when he got back to the hotel that evening. He decided to take his meal in the restaurant, and sat at his favorite table. He liked to have his back to the wall, where he could see whoever was coming toward him. Besides which, the table was in a rather dark corner, where he could keep to himself. He ordered a glass of cabernet and watched people moving on the dancefloor, swaying to the music. A voluptuous black woman-Luka knew her vaguely as the hotel's on-call torch song singer-stood at the microphone and began singing.   
  
  
You say "either" and I say "either"  
You say "neither" I say "neither"  
"Either" "either", "neither" "neither"  
Let's call the whole thing off  
  
You say "potato" I say "patattah"  
You say "tomato" I say "creole tomatah"  
Let's call the whole thing off  
  
Oh, if we call the whole thing off  
Then we must part and  
Oh, if we ever part  
That would break my heart  
  
I say "ursta" you say "oyster"  
I'm not gonna stop eatin urstas  
Just cause you say oysters,  
Let's call the whole thing off  
  
I say "pajamas" you say "pajamas"  
Sugar, what's the problem?  
For we know we need each other so  
We'd better call the calling off off  
  
Oh let's call it off, oh let's call it off  
Oh let's call it off, baby let's call it off  
  
Sugar why don't we call it off,  
I'm talking baby why call it off  
Let's call the whole thing off...  
  
  
Luka watched the dancers move off the floor and back to their tables. He sipped his wine and his mind drifted to his visit to the station that morning. Besting Sky at target practice had been satisfying...in a way. It had apparently not hurt her pride too badly, and he had made sure not to rub it in. So he'd surprised her. She sure surprised him. Every time he was around her, she either irritated him or...  
  
She's probably eating tomato sandwiches and throwing darts at my picture, he thought as he downed the last of the wine. The waiter came by and asked him if he wanted more wine.  
  
"Hmm? Oh, no. Thanks, Rob. Getting late. I think I'll just head up to my room and get a little sleep. Tell Lorraine she was great tonight...as usual."  
  
"Will do, Doc. Have a good night."  
  
"Yeah. Thanks." Luka tipped the waiter and walked out into the hotel lobby. The Drake Hotel was an elegant Chicago establishment, and Luka had come to enjoy the quiet atmosphere of the place. He knew almost everybody on staff, and had even formed quiet friendships with a few of them. But lately, he'd been feeling an urge to get his own place. Settle down, put down roots. Why not? He liked Chicago. The winters weren't exactly to his taste, but he had learned to cope pretty well...  
  
"Evening, Dr. Kovac. How are you?" Jessica, the sleek little redhead worked the front desk most nights. He had a slightly flirtatious relationship with her, though he knew it'd never go anywhere. She wasn't really his type, even though she was friendly and warm. In fact, if Juliette hadn't accepted his invitation to dinner shortly after his breakup with Abby, he would have given Jessica some serious consideration.  
  
"Fine," he nodded. "How are you?"  
  
"Oh, I'm all right." She smiled seductively at him, as if to say, 'I'd be a lot better if we were both naked and in a more private setting'. But her smile barely registered with Luka. Instead, his mind went back to Sky. He wondered, yet again, what she was doing. And that made him frown suddenly. What was she doing, and...who was she doing it with? An attractive, intelligent and funny woman like her was bound to have plenty of male companionship.   
  
Damn, he thought as he waved absently at Jessica and headed to the elevators. He didn't like the idea of...  
  
The elevator doors closed and he muttered under his breath. "Competition!"  
  
===============  
  
"All right, Sky, *uncle*. Lemme up!"  
  
Sky jumped to her feet, allowing her brother to get to his feet. He rubbed his chest-where her knee had been moments before-and drew in a slow breath. "Geesh, sis, you're gettin' vicious these days. What bee is in your bonnet?"  
  
"No bee," she answered defensively.  
  
"Oh, little sis is in denial," Andy called from the bench.   
  
They were in the police gym, practicing hand-to-hand fighting. Sky preferred to fight Michael-her oldest brother-because he was the strongest of the six and the most challenging.   
  
"I think," Nicholas called from the bench, where he was seated beside Andy. "That our sister is having man troubles."  
  
"You shut up!" Sky snarled.   
  
"Such an attitude toward a priest!" Andy snickered. "Spill it, sis. Who's the lucky fella?"  
  
Sky started toward her brother, ready to whale into him with both fists, but Michael grabbed her around the waist and hauled her off her feet. That enraged her, of course. She shifted her weight forward, getting her feet back on the ground, and flipped him right over her shoulder and onto his back. "I've told you not to do that, Mike!"  
  
"You really should listen," Nicholas grinned down at his brother. "She's gonna hurt you one day."  
  
Mike got back to his feet again. "If it is a guy, he'd better be careful," he grinned. "One wrong move and he's in traction, huh, Sky?"   
  
The other five brothers snickered. They all remembered Tommy Watson, after all. Pete came over with a bottle of water and handed it to Sky, who unscrewed the cap and took a grateful swig. She glared at her brothers, who waited patiently, arms folded across their wide chests. They were all tall, healthy, dangerous-looking men, but as far as their sister was concerned... well, they'd kill anybody who dared to hurt her. Tommy Watson had suffered enough from Sky, so he'd been left alone. But there had been a perp once who'd dared to attack her in a bar during a raid, back when she was with vice. One minute, he was hitting Sky with a pool cue. The next, he'd been under six enraged cops, getting a beating he'd never forget.   
  
Not, however, that they had any compunction about beating on *her*.  
  
"There is *no* guy, so you can all shut up right now," she said, wiping her mouth. "I'm just a little distracted is all. This serial killer case is...wearin' me out."  
  
"Yeah. I heard," Pauly said, looking contemplative for a moment. "Hey, I heard from one of the guys at your precinct that you've been hangin' out with some Croatian guy. Kovac, was it?"  
  
Sky tensed. She didn't handle being mocked very well. It usually caused her to lose her temper and the next thing she knew people were bleeding and moaning and sirens were screaming...  
  
"Kovac?" Mike thought about this. "What's his first name?"  
  
Sky refused to answer. She started toward the showers, but her brothers refused to drop the issue. "C'mon, sis. What is it?"  
  
"Luka," Sky muttered. "Luka Kovac."  
  
"Oh-ho-ho-ho...!" Nicholas laughed. "Luka, huh? Is he Dalmatian?"  
  
"Yes, as a matter of fact, he is," Sky snapped.  
  
"Oh, man. And you like him, doncha, sis?" Pete laughed. "What's he do for a livin'?"  
  
"He's a doctor."  
  
"Well, at least Mom'll be pleased," Mike said gravely. "She'd wantcha to hook up with either a doctor, a lawyer, or a fireman."  
  
"Shut up!" Sky hissed. "You can all mind your own damned business."  
  
"You are our business, sis."  
  
"And thank you for perpetuating the ridiculously sexist notion that a woman needs her big strong brothers to look out for her. In case you forgot, Mike, I just beat the *shit* out of you with my bare hands. I don't need anybody takin' care of me. So unless you want another beating, you'll back off and leave me alone!"  
  
Mike put his hands up in a 'surrender' gesture, and stepped back. "Whoa, sis. Man, I've never seen you so riled up over a guy before."  
  
Enraged, she strode away from them, her heart pounding, her cheeks flushed. What if Luka met up with either one of her brothers? They'd never let her hear the end of it! Even worse...oh, God, they'd probably make it their business to size him up. She would just *die* from the humiliation of it all. 'Little Princess Sky needs her big brothers to come and make sure her...her...' oh, God.   
  
Sky stripped quickly and stepped into the shower, and looked down at her body, and another painful memory flashed through her mind.   
  
She'd been eighteen. Just about to leave for Yale. One of Mike's stable of girlfriends had invited her to her house for a pre-leaving-for-college pool party, and Sky had debated for a full week about whether she'd go. Finally, her mother persuaded her to let down her guard a bit and try to mix with her peers.   
  
*Big* mistake! She'd allowed her mother to give her a two-piece bikini, and had gone to the party almost shaking with nervousness. She had snuck into a bathroom to change, and emerged with a towel wrapped around herself, determined to stay away from the water. But Kylie Norris, her best friend, had finally talked her into removing the towel. The two girls walked out of the house and onto the warm sandstone by the pool, and for some reason, everybody became silent. Kylie was waved over by a friend, and Sky watched, horrified, as they began whispering. What was going on? She looked down-well, at least the top was still on. The bottoms were still on, too, so what was the problem?  
  
"What happened to Sky?!" one of the guys yelled.   
  
She hadn't been able to handle it. She pulled the towel back around her body, turned, and fled back into the house as though she were being pursued by all the demons of hell. Some small part of her mind had kept working enough to let her remember to go back into the bathroom, where she changed into her jeans and over-sized shirt, and then she'd dashed back out to her beat-up little VW Bug. From what she remembered, she'd broken every traffic law in existence to get back home and into her bed. She never told her mother why she stayed in her room for the rest of the day. Sky Krasuljak never let anybody see her cry, after all.  
  
She had never spoken to Kylie again, despite her former friend's numerous phone messages. 'What happened to you, Sky? I don't understand. You would have had such a good time!' That message had made her cry even harder (alone, of course). Kylie had been making fun of her, just like everybody else. All those people back in high school...they had all been laughing at her, and she had let them. She had been deceived into thinking Kylie was her friend, too. Mainly because Kylie's mother and Sky's mother were such good friends. Sky had been a charity case, just like always.   
  
Turning off the shower, Sky dried off and went back out to dress. As usual, she wore sweatpants and a battered old sweatshirt. She never gave any thought-much less *realized*-what her clothes covered.  
  
She took the long way out of the gym, so she wouldn't have to face her brothers again. She walked along the hall until she came upon an ad poster for some kind of...ugh, *panty liners*? But the woman in the ad was tall and slender, wearing an impossibly tight dress (apparently, she was not photographed while experiencing PMS, so wasn't that false advertising?). She was wearing high heels-they had to be at least six inches. Sky wondered if she could ever wear shoes like that. I could take a shot at four inch heels at best, she thought.   
  
Buying high heels, of course, she thought, as she threw her gym bag in her car, would also require buying a dress. And then makeup. And getting something done with my hair. The whole *gel* issue, for instance. And then jewelry. Earrings and lipgloss.   
  
God, what's happening to me?!  
  
  
To be continued... 


	8. Citizen X (Part 8)

TITLE: Citizen X (Part 8/?)  
AUTHOR: Miesque  
DISCLAIMER: The characters from "ER" are the sole property of NBC, Amblin Entertainment and Warner Bros. They are only being used in this fanfiction series for entertainment purposes and no profit is being made by the author. Sadly enough.   
RATING: PG-13 (mild language, sexual situations)  
SETTING: End of season seven into season eight  
CATEGORY: Luka Kovac/original character; drama, mystery, romance, blah blah blah...  
ARCHIVE: If you must  
SPOILERS: For season seven & eight   
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to Ellen Hursh for feedback and suggestions.  
  
===============  
  
"Which hospital are we going to?" Sky yelled.   
  
Zadro rolled his eyes. "Cook County General, ma'am. You need to lie back and keep your ankle elevated. Looks like it could be broken." Zadro didn't figure the ankle *was* broken, but maybe this woman would be quiet if she thought it was. But she just kept popping up like a jack-in-the-box. He felt that it would also benefit himself and Doris greatly if she had remained unconscious. But she had come around almost immediately after being loaded into the rig. She had started up a string of protests, first to the indignity of being strapped to a gurney, then to the fact that she'd been given pain-killers...and now, upon the mention of CCGH, her eyes widened with horror.  
  
"Not that hospital. I'll ride in this thing for an hour if you'll take me anywhere but there."  
  
"It's not that bad a hospital, ma'am," Doris yelled from the driver's seat. "In fact, coupla docs there are really good-looking. Dr. Kovac in particular."  
  
"What about Carter?" Zadro called back. "I thought you said he was cute once."  
  
"Yeah, *cute*. But cute isn't the same as gorgeous."  
  
Sky winced in pain, and then sat up again, refusing to obey the EMT's order to lie down again. "I will *pay* you to take me to Mercy!"  
  
"We're almost there, ma'am," Doris yelled.  
  
"I am not going in that hospital!"  
  
"You are, ma'am, so you might as well just give up and accept the inevitable."  
  
"Oh, God..."   
  
The ambulance rolled into the bay, greeted by John Carter and Haleh. "What's up?"  
  
"Thirty-four year old woman with a badly sprained ankle. Fell down at the mall, lost consciousness for about ten minutes due to the pain, but definitely alive and well now, if her mouth is any indication," Doris answered. "Weighs about one-forty, excellent heart and breath sounds. In perfect shape, really, except for the ankle. I wish I had thighs like that."  
  
Carter grinned as the doors were opened, and Sky was rolled out. She was sitting up on the gurney again, arguing angrily with Zadro, who was informing her that under no circumstances was he going to get her a cab to Mercy.  
  
"Afternoon, ma'am," Carter said. "You had an accident at the mall?"  
  
"That is none of your damned business!" she snarled.   
  
"Well, how did it happen?" Carter tried again. He couldn't keep from looking her over with interest. Beautifully-drawn face, cameo-ivory skin, startling blue eyes, silky, nearly black hair hanging around her shoulders, and a firm, trim body, with legs that seemed to go on forever...she was a knockout!   
  
"I fell down," she said crossly. "Twisted my ankle...seems simple enough, right?"  
  
"You lost consciousness, too? Did you hit your head?"  
  
"No. In case you didn't notice, it's my Goddamned *ankle* that's busted!"  
  
Carter smiled a little and listened to her heart for a moment before calling for X-rays. "We'll just make sure there's no fracture and go from there, Miss...?"  
  
"Detective Sky Krasuljak," she snapped. "Chicago Police."  
  
"Ah. Well." Carter wondered if perhaps the Chicago PD was doing their recruiting lately at local beauty pageants, because this woman looked like she'd easily win Miss Angry, Armed and Dangerous.  
  
Sky winced with the pain, but stubbornly bit her lower lip. This was so humiliating. But if she could get treated for her injury and slip out of this hospital without Luka...without *Kovac*...seeing her, she would be all right. If he saw her, she knew she'd have to crawl under a table. And the pain was *excruciating*. She cursed herself for being such a wimp.  
Hell, she'd been shot once...well, sort of. It had only been a slight graze to her left shoulder, but she had a scar to show for it, and she hadn't even *winced* then.   
  
"Do you have any allergies?" the nurse asked her.  
  
"What?" Sky gasped. Dr. Carter-she read his name on his labcoat-was gently examining her ankle.   
  
"Do you have any allergies?"  
  
"None that I'm aware of," she answered through clenched teeth. "And if Dr. Carded-Til-He's-Forty down there doesn't stop poking around on my ankle, I'm gonna shoot him right through the heart."  
  
"Give her some Haldol, Haleh," Carter said mildly. "And a little morphine, too, for the pain."  
  
"And something...to...bite...on!" Sky shouted. "God, what are you *doing*?!"  
  
"Just moving the ankle a bit, ma'am. We're gonna have to take you up to radiology for a ankle film-looks like it's a Grade Two sprain-and I think a head CT is necessary, considering LOC."  
  
"What?"  
  
"We need to make sure everything's okay up there," Haleh said, glancing over at Doris, who made a "she's crazy" gesture with her finger. "Totally painless, and only to rule out any trouble."  
  
"Yeah. Sure. Okay. Whatever. Just...get me outta here asap, okay?"  
  
"Why?" Haleh asked. "If you were getting ready for a date, I think you'll need to cancel. Even if it's not broken, your ankle is in bad shape and you'll be off your feet for a while."  
  
"That I can handle," Sky told her. "I can deal. But please...just let me outta here soon, okay? I'll *hop* home if necessary. Just let me outta here."  
  
"I'm beginning to suspect," Carter whispered to Haleh when they stepped out of the trauma room. "That she is afraid somebody she knows is gonna see her. Maybe she's...I dunno. Maybe a psych consult is in order? She's awfully agitated."  
  
"You know...I think I recognize that woman," Haleh said, looking up into Memory Space, trying to recall where she'd seen her. "Oh! Oh, yeah, she's Dr. Kovac's...well, not his girlfriend. Hardly. I've seen 'em arguing out here once before. But she knows him. Maybe she's afraid he'll see her?" Then Haleh grinned, and Carter giggled.   
  
"Now, come on, Haleh. Being cruel isn't your forte."  
  
"Wanna bet?"  
  
===============  
  
"Dr. Kovac?" Haleh said, shaking him. "Dr. Kovac? We got a woman in trauma two...she's really agitated, bein' real difficult, and you're the man of the hour. Up and at 'em."  
  
"Why not just get Carter to put a psych hold on her, then?" Luka grouched, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "Waking me up hardly seems necessary."  
  
"Well, we figured you'd want to determine that for yourself."  
  
"Why do I see an evil grin on your face?" he asked her suspiciously. "If this is a stripper...!"  
  
"It's not a stripper," Haleh rolled her eyes. "Ain't even your birthday. Just come on. Really interesting case, too. Seems she was test-driving high heels at the shoe department at Marshall Field's and had a little tumble."  
  
Luka rounded the corner and headed into the trauma room, and was startled into full wakefulness at the sight of Sky Krasuljak lying on the gurney, glaring at John Carter, who was trying-and failing-to get close enough to her to start wrapping her ankle.   
  
She looked...breathtaking. She was decked out in a classic 'little black dress', her hair was brushed back out of her eyes but still allowed to hang around her shoulders. She wasn't wearing her glasses, so he got the full force of her blue eyes when she saw him. Of course, she didn't look very pleased upon seeing him. In fact, she looked furious.  
  
"Uh...afternoon, Detective," Luka said, glancing at Carter, who was wincing slightly. "Did she kick you?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah. Twice. First in the chest, and now in the arm. You wanna give it a try?"  
  
"I'll get my bullwhip and a chair first," Luka grinned, and Carter snickered.   
  
"Vitals are excellent, she's very alert and oriented. LOC after a fall, Grade Two sprain, so we're sending her back up for a CT in a few minutes. Figured we'd get the ankle wrapped and in a splint in the meantime-they're kinda backed up right now. Maybe fifteen minutes before she has to go up."  
  
"Okay." Luka took the tape and bandages from Carter, and looked at Sky, who lifted her chin indignantly and glowered at him.   
  
"Come to laugh at me, then?" she snapped. "Go ahead. I fell over like a...ton of bricks. So now, my humiliation is complete."  
  
"Not quite. I get to play around with your ankle first." He looked at her injury for a moment, and made a soft clucking sound. "Must be very painful."  
  
"Umm...duh!"  
  
He grinned, unoffended, and began wrapping carefully, first with the tape. "Tell me if it's too tight," he said. He heard snickering behind him, and glared briefly at Haleh.   
  
"It's fine," she muttered. "But I don't see how this is going to help."  
  
"Well, I suppose I could just leave the tape and the bandage off and let the ankle swell to the size of a football, get gangrenous, and then we could cut it off," he said casually. "But what do I know? I'm just a doctor. Fifteen years of medical experience, five years of extensive training, along with two years of specialty training at one of the most prestigious medical schools in the world-Carter, could you hand me that splint, please?-so maybe I'm just talking out of my ass?"  
  
She was prepared to start arguing again, but when she looked down her ankle was wrapped and in a sturdy splint. Their eyes met and she knew she was blushing. The whole time he'd been talking, he'd been wrapping the tape around her ankle, then the bandage, and finally, the splint had been applied. She hadn't felt a thing, except his hand supporting her foot. Sky attributed the lack of sensation to the Haldol and the morphine. But...it was nice to have him touch her again.   
  
Oh, damn, she thought. "Can I go now?" she asked.  
  
"Uh...Dr. Carter, what would be your assessment?" Luka asked his younger colleague. He gave him a look that indicated exactly what he expected Carter to say, and that if Carter didn't say it, he could expect itching powder in his scrubs.  
  
"Uh...I think she should be kept overnight for observation, Dr. Kovac."  
  
"Excellent notion!"  
  
"What?!" Sky shouted.  
  
"After all, the patient looks exhausted, doesn't she, Haleh? Look at her eyes...she's got enough bags under there for a British Royal Family excursion to India."  
  
"Oh, *thank you*!" Sky snapped, but she was ignored completely.  
  
"And I know for a *fact* that she's not been sleeping well, and that her choices of nutrition are *appalling*." Luka rubbed his chin for a moment, as though Sky were some kind of rare case at the Mayo clinic. "Pizza, beer, excessive amounts of caffeine. No, that's not a healthy lifestyle."  
  
Haleh nudged Carter. "Wonder how he knows about the 'not sleeping well'?" she muttered. Carter snickered.   
  
"Yes, I think it'd be an excellent idea to keep Miss Krasuljak here overnight...under our careful observation, of course."  
  
"What is this, 'National Geographic Hospital'? Are you gonna photograph me bringing down a gazelle?" Again, she was ignored completely. "Have I suddenly *disappeared*?! Hello?!"  
  
"What do you think, Dr. Carter?" Luka asked, turning to observe Carter, who struggled to put a serious expression back on his face.  
  
"Uh...definitely, Dr. Kovac. Miss Krasuljak could use a little rest while in our care. Ah...a...private room, maybe?"  
  
"Yes, again, that's an excellent notion, Dr. Carter. Haleh, could you call Dr. Weaver in here, please?"  
  
"Sure, Dr. Kovac," Haleh said, stepping out into the hall before she cracked up. "Hey, Dr. Weaver? Luka needs you in trauma two."  
  
Kerry gave her a curious stare, wondering what was so funny, crutched into the trauma room and was equally startled by the transformed Det. Krasuljak. She turned to Luka. "Yes, Dr. Kovac?"  
  
"Detective Krasuljak is going to need a private room upstairs. She's staying for observation due to exhaustion, malnutrition and possible side effects from LOC this afternoon following a fall." His gaze was direct, and he was doing everything in his power to telegraph to her that he expected her to agree to his orders *immediately*.  
  
Kerry coughed nervously. "Oh? Head injury."  
  
"Ankle."  
  
"Of course."  
  
"A *private* room, Kerry. No...uh..."  
  
"Interruptions?" Carter said from across the room. Sky's face turned pink, and Luka glared at his younger colleague.  
  
"Hey, it's time for the detective to go up for her CT," Luka said cheerfully, nodding toward the guy from transport. "Have a good time, Sky. If you're a good girl for them, you'll get a lollipop."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
===============  
  
It seemed like everybody was coming in to get a look at Sky, and she felt like she was on display. She had been left in curtain area three while a bed was procured for her upstairs, so she had nothing to do but sit around and wait. By three o'clock, she was bored and the painkillers were wearing off. By four, she was almost in agony but refusing to admit it-but the wincing, writhing and barely contained gasps of pain were pretty good evidence to the person in the next bed that all was not well. At five, when Kovac came in to see how she was doing, he immediately saw that she was uncomfortable.  
  
"Ankle hurting?" he asked.  
  
"No, I'm just doing my Linda Blair imitation," she snarled. "I've been ringing for the nurse for about an hour now."  
  
"She's on break," Luka answered mildly, refusing to be put off by her hostility. She was in pain, she was unhappy with her situation, and she was obviously exhausted. He wasn't going to let her push any of his buttons today. Not when she was looking so fetching, anyway. Of course, she'd been changed into a hospital gown, and Luka regretted having missed that event.  
"But otherwise, how are you feeling?"  
  
"Oh, just *dandy*!"  
  
"Good! We'll have you upstairs in a private room before you know it, and in the meantime I'll order some more morphine for you. How about that?"  
  
She snorted and folded her arms. "I'm hungry."  
  
"Yeah, I can imagine you are. Didn't you have breakfast?"  
  
"Didn't have time."  
  
"It's the most important meal of the day. If I miss breakfast, I'm cranky all day."  
  
"Oh? You must miss breakfast a lot, then."  
  
"Look who's talking, Machka."  
  
She glared at him. "Are you ever going to tell me what that means?"  
  
"No...I don't think so." He grinned and wrote the order on her chart, then left her alone again to stew in her own juices. Frustrated, she began ringing for the nurse again, until finally Lydia Wright showed up, looking harried. She had *nine* patients to take care of, and was so far behind she was wondering if she'd ever get home tonight. For a moment, she tried to place the young woman lying there, then went back out into the hall, where she knew Al was waiting on a patient that he had to transport to jail. "Al? That Detective Krasuljak you told me about? I thought you said she was frumpy!"  
  
Al stared at her, dumbfounded, and then followed his wife back to the curtain area. He saw Sky and greeted her somewhat absently, unprepared for her to be looking that way. "Hey...uh...hi, Sky. What...happened to you?" And he didn't mean, 'what happened to your ankle?'  
  
"I sprained my ankle," she said grouchily.   
  
"Ah. Yeah. Oh. Of course. That's why you're *here*," he said slowly. "That's why you're here and that's why I'll be stepping back out into the hall because it would be very... uh... rude of me to stand around staring at you bye!" Once out in the hall, he gave Lydia a stunned stare. "Besides which, I'm pretty sure she didn't let them take her Glock!"  
  
Sky watched him leave, then did her best to ask *politely* for more painkillers, or at least to be shot.  
  
===============  
  
"Detective Krasuljak?"   
  
She woke up and was greeted by the sight of John Carter, yet again. He'd been in here twice so far, checking her chart and seeing to it that she was receiving the right amount of morphine.   
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Hey, are you feeling any better now?"  
  
"Where's Dr. Kovac?" she asked, pulling herself up a little with her elbows, then falling back on the pillows. "Has he gone home?"   
  
Carter wasn't sure he liked that she sounded worried that Kovac was gone. But he smiled anyway. "No, he's still around here somewhere. I'm off for the night, but I just came by to see how you were doing."  
  
"Oh. Well, I'm just hunky dory, so you can go now."  
  
"I think the swelling may be down a bit...in your ankle."  
  
"Great. That means I can go home earlier tomorrow, if Kovac'd let me."  
  
"Yeah. Uh...hey, once your ankle's back to normal, maybe we could have a drink or dinner...?"  
  
"Are you asking me on a date?" she asked, astounded.   
  
"Well...yeah..."  
  
"In that case, it'll never be back to normal."  
  
"Huh? Oh." Carter stood up, shielding his wounded pride.   
  
Sky glared at him, then shrugged. "Listen. It's nothing personal. But...you're not my type. You barely look old enough to drive, much less to go on dates with armed women."  
  
"Wanna see my driver's license?"  
  
"Dr. Carter, you'll be showing people your driver's license 'til you're forty. That's the downside of looking so young. But I prefer men who look their age. I'm sure there's a long line of teenaged girls at your door."   
  
"Oh." Carter started to back away, until he came into contact with something solid. He turned around and came face to chin with Dr. Kovac, who was glaring at him.   
  
"Dr. Carter, you're off, are you not?"  
  
"Yes, I am..."  
  
"Can I have a brief talk with you...out in the hall?" Luka exuded friendliness, but only Sky noticed that there was something menacing in how he was standing, feet slightly apart, his hands on his hips. Yet again, she thought that in another life, he must have been a leopard. A lethal, graceful, beautiful animal. She wondered what Carter had done to offend the older doctor.   
  
"Sure. Uh, good night Detective Krasuljak..."  
  
"Yeah. Night-night." She closed her eyes and turned her head a little.   
  
Out in the hall, Luka stood for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "Listen, John. I'll give it to you straight. If I catch you hanging around Sk-...Detective Krasuljak again...well, have you ever seen 'Pulp Fiction'?"  
  
"Uh...yes..."  
  
"That's mere child's play compared to what I'll do to you if I see you around her again. Got it?"  
  
"Umm...definitely."  
  
"Good. Hey, have a good night, John. See you tomorrow?" Luka gave him his usual genial smile and a friendly whack on the shoulder, which made Carter even more nervous. Then the older man turned and headed back up the hall, whistling 'Girl, You'll Be A Woman Soon'.  
  
===============  
  
Sky woke up some time during the night to the sound of water running. She sat up, momentarily disoriented. She wasn't in her apartment! Then she realized where she was. In the damned *hospital*, in what appeared to be a private room. For a moment, she wondered how long she'd been asleep. Not that it mattered. A nurse had come in...several?...hours ago and had given her a pill and stood by, waiting patiently, until she swallowed it down. That pill had pretty much zonked her out.  
  
She felt like she was having an out of body experience when Kovac emerged from the bathroom. "Oh, you're awake," he said. "Feeling better?"  
  
"Don't like being here," she mumbled.  
  
"That's not the answer I was looking for, but I'll take the fact that you're back to your usual cheerful and outgoing self to mean that you are, indeed, feeling better."  
  
That got him a cold look, and she turned her head to look away, toward the window. The blinds were down, but she wanted to look out. "Open the blinds," she said.  
  
"What's the magic word?"  
  
"Automatic weapon?"  
  
He snickered. "Sky, you're a real piece of work, you know that?"  
  
"Interesting that you've picked up so many of the local colloquialisms," she muttered. "Open the damned blinds!"  
  
"Not 'til you say the magic word," he said, still seated, casually examining his fingernails. "It's not painful to say it, you know. I learned to say it when I was three."  
  
"Oh? I was already forming full sentences when I was just two," she snapped back. "All right. *Please* open the blinds?"  
  
He nodded, got up and strolled over. He lifted the blinds up and fixed them so she could see the city lights. She watched him walk back, aware of his presence...his scent, his very essence. He was like a big, beautiful cat. She could feel her heart pounding, and was immensely relieved that she wasn't attached to a heart monitor. No matter how she tried to erase it from her mind, she was still remembering their impulsive kiss a few days ago. She had never been kissed like...hell, before that, she'd never been *kissed*, period.  
  
"Shouldn't you be going home?" she asked in a weak voice, plucking nervously at her blanket.  
  
"No. Not yet."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"You know, Sky...you ask too many questions. I'm only sitting here, keeping you company for a while. I'd think you'd appreciate a little...companionship."  
  
"I've been living alone since I was eighteen, Dr. Kovac."  
  
"Why is that?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Why have you been alone since you were eighteen? Why would anybody want to be alone?"  
  
Sky scowled and looked away. She didn't know how to answer his question, anyway. "Maybe being alone is easier than..."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Never mind. You should go home. I'm tired and I feel...horrible."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Yes. I feel like a fool."  
  
"Why?"   
  
"I went to the mall today and got a makeover and had my hair done and got a bunch of new clothes..."  
  
"Yeah, I saw that," he said, smiling slightly before heading over to a Marshall Field's bag in the corner. Sky watched in horror as Luka carried it to her bedside. "Let's see...oh, here..." He pulled the shoebox out and extracted the pair of black stiletto heels. "Very nice, but a word of advice. It's a good idea to start at one-inch heels, then try two-inch, then three, *then* four. Starting out at four is a bad idea, because your body overcompensates, trying to adjust. Bad for your back, for one thing."   
  
He was making fun of her! Angrily, her heart on the verge of shattering, she snatched the bag and the shoes from him. "Get out! You don't need to be cruel...I know you're making fun of me! You're just like everybody else!"  
  
"I wasn't being cruel, Sky," he said gently. "And frankly, I'm curious as to where you get this idea that everybody is making fun of you. Did you ever think that the reason so many people came by to see you...why Carter asked you on a date...why they stare at you...is because you're an incredibly sexy, beautiful, smart woman that any man would feel proud to be with?"  
  
"You...I'm..."  
  
"And yes, I mean that, Sky. You're a very pretty woman."  
  
"Stop it! Stop saying that. Just go. Get out!"  
  
"What? Stop saying that you're a beautiful woman? Hmm...how often would I have to say it before I convinced you?"  
  
Her eyes were brimming with tears, and Luka wanted to bend down and kiss them away. But he remained still, trying to figure it out. What had happened to this woman? Who had hurt her so badly? And, for that matter, why? If someone had hurt her...Luka felt a surge of anger at that unknown person.   
  
"You'll never convince me," she said softly.   
  
For a moment, he wondered if maybe this was some kind of ploy. That she was faking all this innocence and vulnerability under an oddly appealing facade of bravado and sarcasm. But...no. There was a purity about her-a complete, unspoiled innocence about her that was irresistible.  
She was a charming little kitten, and Luka had always rather liked kittens. Of course, this kitten did a lot of spitting, clawing and biting, but with a little kindness she might purr a bit.  
  
"Oh? You're that convinced of your unworthiness?"  
  
"Just go away," she said. "You said I needed rest and yet you're not letting me rest. Just go away."  
  
She wasn't prepared for him to touch her face, his fingers brushing gently against her cheek. "Sky..." he said softly. "I can't go away."  
  
"What do you mean?" she asked him, looking up at him, meeting his hazel-grey gaze and turning her head, unconscious of the fact that she was almost nuzzling his palm, desperately needing to be touched.   
  
"You know, Sky. Or...if you don't know, you'll figure it out eventually." He withdrew his hand, smiled at her, and quietly left the room. Sky collapsed onto her back and stared at the ceiling, trying to convince herself that she felt just as warm without him in the room as she did when he'd been right beside her.   
  
===============  
  
It was there again.  
  
The urge. The hunger. It was time to go out again.   
  
He sat in the little room, surrounded by newspapers, the wall covered with clippings. Some read 'Citizen X' in English, while others were in Croatian. The TV was on mute, showing a local news report. He wasn't watching the television, however. Instead, he was sharpening his knife on a strap, wanting the blade to be so sharp it would slice right through skin like butter.   
  
Getting up slowly, he made his way out of his house and headed out into the night. For a while, he drove aimlessly through the familiar streets, searching for exactly the sort of victim he wanted. She had to be pure, of course. Pure and clean, with no experience. She had to be dark, too, with the right look about her. Parking outside a small nightclub, he went inside and surveyed the crowd of dancers, knowing-just knowing-he'd find her. She would be here, a perfect sacrifice. Yes...  
  
There she was. Standing alone near the bar, talking with another girl. A tall, slender, statuesque girl with high, Slavic cheekbones and a cool elegance about her, besides what he knew was a fresh innocence. Yes. She was perfect. He smiled to himself, turned, and went back outside. He could wait. He could wait all night.  
  
  
To be continued... 


	9. Citizen X (Part 9)

TITLE: Citizen X (Part 9/?)  
AUTHOR: Miesque  
DISCLAIMER: The characters from "ER" are the sole property of NBC, Amblin Entertainment and Warner Bros. They are only being used in this fanfiction series for entertainment purposes and no profit is being made by the author. Sadly enough.   
RATING: PG-13 (mild language, sexual situations)  
SETTING: End of season seven into season eight  
CATEGORY: Luka Kovac/original character; drama, mystery, romance, blah blah blah...  
ARCHIVE: If you must  
SPOILERS: For season seven & eight   
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to Ellen Hursh for feedback and suggestions.  
  
===============  
  
Sky had been glued to her TV set all morning, watching in horror as reports were made about yet another killing in the Croatian community. Victim #12, a Susanja Miljavac, age twenty-two, had been found stabbed to death in an alley near a popular nightclub. She had been raped repeatedly, her face mutilated...  
  
She had to jump up and rush to the bathroom to throw up. Second time in less than two hours, she thought sadly. It had to be the painkillers, in part, she told herself. Since her release from the hospital Tuesday evening, she'd been taking these pills, and they certainly *worked*, except for the fits of nausea they gave her. Hobbling back into her living room, she flopped on her couch and gingerly rested her ankle on the armrest. She was bored, frustrated and, considering her injury, 'on the bench', according to Captain Sweeney. Her brothers had been calling her since six a.m., commiserating with her about her condition and asking her how she was feeling. "How d'ya think I'm feeling?" she'd finally burst out at Pauly. "I'm stuck on my couch, watching television and unable to do a damned thing!"  
  
"Well, sis, I heard that Kovac was back at the station this morning, translating for a couple of witnesses. Only one of them spoke English very well, but turned out to be Montenegran. According to Sweeney, Kovac left the building in just as grouchy a mood as you are now. Seems like you two are a matched pair-always on the same page, temper-wise."  
  
"Oh? Umm...did...did he get any important information?"  
  
"Just her girlfriend. She didn't notice anybody. The girl went out of the club for a few minutes, to get some air...? Never came back in, apparently. And the other witness...the Montenegran?...he was little help. I hear Kovac got awfully pissed with him, because he started telling jokes during the interview. Seems the guy is an aspiring comedian."  
  
"Why is it that some comedians have no sense of the appropriate?" Sky had wondered. "Anything else? What else have you heard?"  
  
"Not much else," Pauly told her. "I'll keep ya posted."  
  
And so now, she was stranded, feeling like she was on an island-that is, her couch, surrounded by a sea of...unwashed laundry, Chinese take-out and pizza boxes. "Where's Wilson?!" she muttered to herself. She searched around for a few minutes for her remote control, but couldn't find the damned thing anywhere. Growing more and more frustrated-because the news had ended and that disgusting prick Jerry Springer was coming on-she started throwing pillows around in her search. She finally had to get up and hop around her living room, tossing stuff aside as she tried to find it.   
  
The silliness of the situation never occurred to her. She could just as easily had walked over and pushed the "power" button on the TV. Finally, she found the remote, viciously "shot" the TV off and hopped to her kitchen, where a chicken pot pie was baking in the oven. She checked it, noted that it wasn't quite cooked and that no matter how long she cooked it, and no matter how much salt and pepper she put on it, it'd never taste that great anyway, and sat down at her table, feeling so weary.  
  
He hadn't called her. Not so much as a *postcard*, for God's sake. He'd said she was pretty four nights ago and yet he'd made no effort to communicate with her. Well, then, she told herself angrily, he obviously didn't mean a word of it!  
  
Frustrated and aching with a strange, unfamiliar pain, she unconsciously touched her cheek where his fingers had stroked. Sky made a firm resolution with herself: next time she saw Luka Kovac, she wouldn't let him see that he'd hurt her. Or that she even cared. She was going to be cool and calm and go about her business in a strictly professional manner. Yes. That should be easy enough, she nodded firmly. I have a series of murders to investigate, anyway. Not like I have time for...for romance. I never had time for it before.   
  
Well, let's be honest with yourself, Krasuljak, she told herself. It never made time for you, either.  
  
===============  
  
"What do you mean, I have to take another shift?" Luka snapped at Kerry. "Why can't somebody else cover it?"  
  
"Luka, please," Kerry said. "We're shorthanded tonight and really need another pair of hands. *Please*. What with Malucci gone and us being short a med student down here..."  
  
He glowered at her. Well, at least nobody'd been stabbed, he thought. For the last four nights in a row, he'd been working sixteen-hour shifts. He was so exhausted, lately, that he'd gone back to taking the El home, fearing he'd be a menace behind the wheel of a car. Particularly *his* car.   
  
"Please, Luka. I know you're tired...and I know you're under a lot of stress with the killings...but we need you tonight. And you know how Friday nights can be."  
  
"Yeah, yeah. The interview this morning was particularly bad," he told her, turning so that others couldn't hear him. "One of the witnesses insisted on telling bad jokes all the time. I mean, *really* bad jokes about vampires and death. Basically, the same joke over and over, really, and all during a questioning about what he may have seen before an innocent young woman was cut to ribbons."  
  
"Vampires don't exist," Kerry said, confused.  
  
"Yeah, I know. But stupid people do."  
  
Kerry sighed. "Listen, Luka...after tonight, I swear, I'll try to get you a few days off. I promise."  
  
"I know you'll try, Kerry," Luka muttered. "But trying doesn't always mean success. Try *extra* hard."  
  
She smiled. "Thank you, Luka. Uh...have you heard from Detective Krasuljak since she was released Tuesday?"  
  
"No." His tone seemed to indicate, to Kerry, that it was a rather touchy subject.  
  
"Maybe you should...uh...call her?"  
  
Luka looked like he wanted to snap something at her, but instead he only studied her for a moment, as if mulling this over, before he turned and walked away. She crutched after him.   
  
"I mean, I don't want to interfere in your personal life, Luka, but...ah..."  
  
"Then don't."  
  
"Well, what I meant was..."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Maybe she wants to discuss the case with you? I mean, you do have kind of an...inside advantage, right? You move in that community, you speak the language, you kind of have a finger on the pulse of..."  
  
"Any more cliches, Kerry?" Luka said, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.   
  
"...the situation. No. No more cliches," she said tiredly, defeated.   
  
"We have people dying faster than guest stars on an episode of 'Murder, She Wrote', Kerry. People like me. Or...actually, people like..."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"People like...uh..."  
  
"Luka, you're not making any sense."  
  
"People like Sky, Kerry. He's killing people like Sky."  
  
"Luka, he hasn't killed a single cop that I'm aware of..."  
  
"No, no...pay attention. He's killing people *like* her. Lonely people. Or, better yet, young, innocent-looking women. I mean, he's killed four males, but I'm wondering if maybe that was a means of covering his tracks, you know? But all these victims had something in common, from what I've been allowed to read in the files. I mean...Sky has let me read over some stuff, okay? So I'll know what to listen for while I'm translating. But they all had a common thread: lonely, young, attractive, most of them being recent immigrants to this country."  
  
"Ah." Kerry shook her head, still a little confused. "So...you think the killer is a Croatian national, too?"  
  
"Yes. And all four of the male victims were sexually assaulted. And one was a well-known patron of a gay bar. So...ah, hell, Kerry, I'm not a detective. I'm probably just making wild assumptions."  
  
"You should still talk with Detective Krasuljak about it, though. I mean...well, Luka, I've always thought you had excellent diagnostic skills. Your intuition is rarely off-target."  
  
"Neither are my bullets," he muttered.   
  
"What?"  
  
"Nothing. Yeah. I'll give her a call later. But..." He looked over her shoulder and saw Chuny gesturing. An ambulance was coming in. "We have a trauma to take care of. You owe me at least a hundred cups of coffee and a lot of doughnuts for this, Kerry," he said, smiling good-naturedly at her.  
  
She grinned. "I'd say you're worth a few doughnuts, Luka."   
  
===============  
  
"I hate Jerry Springer, I hate remote controls, I hate high-heeled shoes and I particularly...whack...hate...whack...*frozen TV dinners*!"  
  
Sky's temper had gotten the best of her again. Her good leg was tired from hopping around (and hadn't Kovac suggested she get a crutch? And hadn't she refused to get one, being her usual prideful and stubborn self?), and when she opened her silverware drawer it had come crashing out again, narrowly missing her big toe on her good foot. Digging around on the floor for a fork to use to poke holes in the plastic over the frozen whipped potatoes in the TV dinner, she lost her balance and fell down, which meant an ungraceful scrabble to get back to her feet. That had caused her to forget her position and bump her head painfully on the edge of the kitchen counter. Swearing loudly, she made her way back to the living room, too angry to deal with the TV dinner right now, and saw Jerry Springer's nauseating mug on the screen. It was a good thing she didn't have her Glock. She'd have shot the TV.   
  
She couldn't find the remote control, either. She had three, actually. One for the TV, one for the VCR, one for the cable. Her attempt to program a new remote for all three had proved hopeless. Nine times out of ten, she couldn't find the remote she needed. If she wanted to turn the sound down, she had to find the *TV* remote. If she wanted to change channels, she had to find the cable remote. If she wanted to watch a movie, she had to put the TV on channel three (which didn't pick up anything), but usually she couldn't find the TV remote, so when she was through watching the movie she had to get up and switch the TV back to channel four, where the cable came in. She felt like she was trying to land a DC-10 whenever she tried to operate her television.  
  
"Why can't life just be *simple*?!" she growled, wishing she could go assault her punching bag. But she was on doctor's orders to get rest. *Doctor's* orders. Luka had told her to stay on her back and keep her ankle elevated. It still confused her, remembering how that nurse had snickered when he'd said that to her.  
  
Her pain medication at least got her to sleep pretty much all the time. Ever since her release from the hospital Tuesday, she'd been taking those pills as directed. It was only in the mornings that she was fully awake and ravenous. She would get out a TV dinner or a can of something (Campbell's soups of every variety, Spaghettios) and prepare 'breakfast', then take her medication and be in dreamland for another eighteen solid hours. She had to admit, when she examined herself in the bathroom mirror, that she looked a lot better. The bags were gone from under her eyes, her skin was strangely soft and supple, and her eyes were clear. Maybe those pills do something more than put me to sleep, she thought.  
  
She made her way back to the kitchen and threw the TV dinner in the nuker. It wasn't that she couldn't cook. In fact, Sky was pretty talented in that area. But she didn't have the patience, usually. All that dealing with eggs and making sure yeast rises properly and seeing that cakes don't collapse. It was beyond her 'waiting' abilities. She wanted things to be done *now*. Thus, she usually just got take-out or fast food and lived on TV dinners and canned foods. Very little waiting.   
  
She was jerked out of her murderous thoughts about Jerry Springer by the sound of the intercom buzzing. Sighing, she hopped over and pressed the button. "Yes?"  
  
"Uh...Sky? This is Dr. Kovac. Can I come up?"  
  
Oh my God. She looked wildly around the apartment. The place was a mess. A total disaster area. What was she gonna do? How could she get this place cleaned up? No, no...she had to get rid of him. Besides, he had no right to come here. He'd made it perfectly clear, after all, that he was not interested in her, hadn't he? He'd been very nice at the hospital, but he was obviously just exhibiting good bedside manner. And if he thought he was going to be able to exhibit good bedside manner in her *apartment*...in her bedroom, with her punching bag hanging only a few feet away...hell no!  
  
"No, you may not. I'm...I'm incapacitated, as you are fully aware. So you can just go on home. If you need to leave a message for me, feel free to do so via the desk clerk at the station. Good bye." She switched the intercom off with a smug little smile and hopped back to her couch.   
  
===============  
  
Luka stared at the intercom button, then looked around. For a moment, he felt a wave of despair crash over him. He'd just got off work, he was already tired. He felt that perhaps she was pushing things a bit. Surely this contrary woman could understand that he'd been working almost nonstop lately, and when he was finally able to get off he really needed *sleep*, right?   
  
Well, maybe not. He could have mustered up enough nerve to call her, right? A simple phone call, while sleepy and mildly incoherent, would have been better than nothing.   
  
He leaned against the wall for a moment, then noticed an elderly woman coming up the steps, and a devious plan instantly formed in his mind. She saw him and smiled as she opened the door.   
  
"Oh, hi...could I help you with that?" he asked.  
  
"Oh, dear, yes. This bag is terribly heavy!" she said. She was grateful to hand him a bag of groceries. Luka peered in and saw why the bag was so heavy-several cans of soup and what appeared to be a leg of lamb. He also took the quart of milk from her and followed her upstairs to her apartment. She chattered the whole time, and Luka listened absently, responding politely to her questions as they rode the elevator up to the second floor.   
  
"Uh..do you know Miss Krasuljak? Lives in 5B?" he asked, interrupting her before she could begin telling him her life story.  
  
"Yes. Such a pretty girl, too," she said, opening her door. "Lives all by herself. What she needs, I think, is a nice husband to look after her. I hear music coming from her apartment sometimes, but she's usually real quiet. A policewoman, no less. Such a...dirty profession for such a pretty thing, isn't it?"  
  
"Umm..."  
  
"Thank you, son." She beamed up at him. "Are you a friend of hers?"  
  
"Sort of." He flashed her a smile and headed up to the fifth floor, eschewing the elevators.  
He figured a little exercise would get the juices going. In the hallway, he was passed by a pair of young women, both of whom turned to watch him, obviously curious. When he rang Sky's doorbell, they both continued to stare. He looked at them for a moment, willing them to go away, and finally they got the picture and continued on their way.  
  
He rang the bell again, and was alarmed to hear loud, angry voices inside. What was going on in there?  
  
===============  
  
"What the hell?" Sky growled. She had just gotten undressed to take a shower, and now the bell was ringing. It was probably that dumb college kid from next door who was always coming by to borrow things from her. Last week, he'd kept her at the door for almost fifteen minutes, asking her about the Bears' defensive line and what sort of chance the team had of making it to the Super Bowl. Sky had finally told him that it wasn't likely that the Bears would make it to the *Punch* Bowl and had rather brusquely told him to scram. She had not noticed his admiring stares at all.   
  
"Who is it?" she called.  
  
"One hell of a secure building you have here, Sky."  
  
Horrified, she peered through the fisheye and saw Luka's head, magnified several times over, and down below, tiny feet. "Oh God," she gasped. "What are you doing up here?!"  
  
"Well, I came by to visit you, if you don't mind."  
  
"I do mind!"  
  
"Sky, I swear I will stand out here and pound on your door...thus creating a very humiliating scene for you...unless you open this door in the next five seconds. One...two...three..."  
  
"All right!" She released the bolt, undid the locks and flung the door open. She was clad in a silk bathrobe, which she had wrapped tightly around herself. Her hair was hanging loose around her shoulders, and she was standing on one foot, like a tall, graceful crane.  
  
"Can I come in?"  
  
"No. Say your piece and then leave."  
  
"First of all, who are you talking to?" he asked.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Who are you talking to? I heard voices."  
  
"Voices? Well, *that* explains it, doesn't it? It was Jerry Springer."  
  
"You watch Springer?" he asked.  
  
"Only when I can't find the remote control."  
  
"Ah." He edged his way in, causing her to hop back. "I thought I told you to get crutches," he said sharply.  
  
"I'm just...fine," she said, bouncing across the room to her favorite chair, which she had hauled back to Chicago from Yale-she'd bought for five dollars at a police auction. It was a delapidated old over-stuffed monstrosity, but it was comfortable. She could kick back in this chair for hours, going over paperwork and listening to the radio or the TV. She sat down as gracefully as possible, trying to appear cool and dignified, but winced when a loose spring made a "twing" sound. He raised a curious eyebrow, but kept any comments to himself.  
  
"Yeah, you do look a little more rested," he said.   
  
"What are you hiding behind your back?" she asked, glaring up at him. He had one arm behind his back, and taking pains to keep her from seeing whatever he was hiding.   
  
Luka made a dramatic sweep of his arm and extended...a bouquet of fresh-cut daisies to her. "Flowers."  
  
Instinctively, her hand reached out to take them, but then she jerked back. "Oh? My, how original."  
  
"What did you expect, a new Glock?" he muttered. "D'ya have a vase...or is it *vahz*?...around here?" He turned and looked around, stepping into her kitchen. "Ah, I see." He reached up and took a small vase down from on top of the refrigerator. "This'll do." He filled it with water and then gingerly stuffed the flowers into it. He handed the vase to her, and she held it as if it were a rabid weasel.   
  
"Do you know what the Croatian word for 'daisy' is?" he asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets.   
  
"Hmm? Oh...no."  
  
"Krasuljak."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"That's what Krasuljak means," he said patiently. "Krasuljak...daisy. Get it? Thus, the daisies."  
  
"You mean to tell me that my last name means *daisy*?"  
  
"I'm surprised you didn't already know that."  
  
Frustrated, she scrambled out of the chair. She took a stumbling step, landing on her injured ankle, and yelped in pain. Luka snatched the vase of flowers from her and grabbed her elbow with his other hand, keeping her from falling. "Are you okay?"   
  
"I'm fine! Let go of my arm."  
  
He released her quickly and she hopped back into her kitchen, still trying to be as dignified as possible. She put the vase on the kitchen table and stood for a moment, not knowing what to do. He was here, in her apartment. Standing in her kitchen, watching her. Frantic, she looked around the room, holding on to the back of a chair.  
  
"What did you want?" she asked.  
  
"To see how you were doing."  
  
"Oh, really? You could have called, you know. Caused me a lot less...stress." Haughtily-or with as much hauteur as a person could exude while in her condition-she hopped to the other side of the table. "And why didn't you call me?"  
  
"I've been really busy, Machka. Eighteen hour shifts. Work all day, go back to my hotel, sleep a few hours, then turn around and go back to work. Besides going to the station yesterday morning. And that's part of why I came by. I needed to discuss something with you...I have a theory, and I was hoping you'd hear me out?"  
  
"Yeah. Whatever."  
  
"Sit?" he said gently, coming around to pull the chair out for her. Sky glared at him, then swept the back of her robe under her and slid into the seat. Luka was intrigued a bit by that gesture. Perhaps if he treated her like a lady, she'd forget her bravado and cool off a bit. But then...he kind of liked it when she was so fiery. She was a rare combination of fire and ice, courage and vulnerability.  
  
"So what's your theory?" she asked, nervously fiddling with a coffee cup.  
  
"Well...you may have already thought of it. In fact, I'm sure you have..."  
  
"Maybe," she said cautiously.  
  
"Well, it's just the idea that all the victims have had kind of a common thread...a sort of connection. They were all recent immigrants, all apparently...uh...virgins, except for the gay bar patron, and we don't really know if he...anyway, what I'm saying is that the killer seems to go after a certain type. A somewhat lonely, isolated person. He seems to target attractive but lonely people who just recently arrived in America. You would suspect that he is Croatian, speaks the language...in fact, you'd think might be well-known in the community."  
  
"Oh. Well...that's...a...very interesting theory. I'll have to talk to the FBI profiler we're working with and see what she thinks."  
  
"Yeah." He looked around. "Do you have any coffee?"  
  
"I just made a fresh pot."  
  
"Ah, good." He got up. "Do you like cream and sugar?"  
  
"No. Black."  
  
"Me too." He poured himself a cup, then her. He sat down opposite her again, and a strange silence fell between them. Finally, he cleared his throat. "When's your birthday?"  
  
"April tenth." She flushed. "Why do you ask?"  
  
"I don't know." He shrugged. "Just curious, I guess."  
  
"When's yours?" she asked.  
  
He smiled. "You have a...nice apartment."  
  
She looked around, bewildered. The place was a mess. She hadn't cleaned in what must have been months. Nervously, she swept her hair back, running her fingers through it and wishing she had something to tie it back with. She saw that he was watching her intently, and put her hands back on the table.  
  
"Do you play piano?" he asked her.  
  
"Yes. Lessons since I was four."  
  
"Oh? Are you any good?"  
  
"I'd better be, or Mrs. Beasley'll rise out of her grave and hurl half-notes at me for the rest of my life."  
  
Luka laughed. "I had piano lessons 'till I was about eleven, when it finally dawned on my mother that I had all the musical talent of a deaf camel. So I was finally released into the streets of my village for more normal activities like sailing, football and minor vandalism."   
  
"Minor vandalism? Were you ever arrested?"  
  
"Oh, no. The police in my village were pretty laid-back fellows. They knew all about the foolishness of youth. We grew out of it, anyway."  
  
"Into major acts of vandalism?" she asked, rolling her eyes slightly.  
  
"Well, there was the incident involving putting a pig in the bed of a local government official. But he was a real old hard-line Communist and nobody liked him. And there was the time we painted a moustache on the statue of Tito...only, now that I think about it, we didn't put the moustache on his *face*..."  
  
Sky stared at him, dumbfounded, for a moment, then started biting her lower lip, trying to keep from laughing. He grinned at her, waiting, until finally she started giggling. "That's crazy!"  
  
"That's being *young*," Luka reminded her. "Didn't you ever do anything really naughty when you were young?"  
  
"Not that I recall," she answered, lifting her chin.   
  
"I sure did. I mean, I wasn't a *bad* boy. But I did things sometimes that weren't necessarily good. But then, I remember a few years ago, just before my mother died, she told me that she and my father went skinny-dipping one hot August night. So even a forty-five year old man and his forty-three year old wife are capable of being a little less than circumspect sometimes."  
  
"What happened?" Sky asked. "Were they caught?"  
  
"Nearly. The cops came upon them. Next thing my parents knew, they had the spotlight shining on their faces. So down they went under water. But they had to come back up, and there the cops were. 'Oh, what are you two doing out here?' 'Oh, just taking a dip'. I suppose the cops could asked more questions, but they weren't dumb. My parents were up to their chins in three-feet-deep water. Those cops knew what they were up to, and just left 'em alone."  
  
"Sounds like your parents were a lot of fun," she said softly.  
  
"They were good people," Luka nodded, sipping his coffee. "Are. My father is still alive. Oh..." He looked at his watch. "I really should be going soon. I just got off and I'm pretty tired. But...uh..."  
  
"W-Why did you kiss me?" she asked him suddenly.  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Why did you kiss me? You had no right to kiss me."  
  
"I didn't?"  
  
"No!" Sky shivered slightly, in spite of the scalding coffee. "I know you were just trying to...to..."  
  
"To what?" he asked softly. "What do you think I was trying to do?"  
  
"I don't know. But you had no right."  
  
"I was pissed, okay? I was trying to be nice to you, and you acted like I'd...hit you, or something."  
  
"So you kissed me?"  
  
"Yes, I did, Sky."  
  
"Why?!"  
  
Luka had had enough. He stood up, grabbed her by her hand and dragged her to her feet. "Where's a mirror?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I said, where is a *mirror*?"  
  
"I-In my...my bedroom..."  
  
"Down that hall, right?" he said. He didn't wait for her answer. Instead, he all but carried her into the bedroom, then set her back down-very carefully-in front of her full-length mirror.   
  
"See?"  
  
She stared at herself, then looked at him, totally confused. "See *what*?"  
  
"I don't get you, Sky. You don't make any sense at all. Sometimes I wonder if this innocent, virginal parochial-school-graduate thing is just an act. But then I realize that's it's real. You really don't have any idea, do you? I don't think you even realize that you're just reeling me in, do you?"  
  
"I have no idea what you're talking about, and I think you should just *leave* right now."  
  
"Make me," he challenged.  
  
"Listen..."  
  
"Shh...be quiet." He was moving closer to her, captivated when her eyes widened a bit and she blinked, coal-black eyelashes brushing her cheeks. "God, you're just gorgeous."   
  
"Stop that!"  
  
He put his hands on her hips, moving closer to her. He was tempted to tug at the silk belt around her waist and become acquainted with what he knew was a breathtaking body. But instead, he slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. He liked the way she felt against him-her curves seemed to melt into his own body. He buried his face into her hair, breathing in the scent of shampoo and...what was that perfume? It was sweet, but not overpowering. He lifted his head slightly and placed a light kiss just below her ear.  
  
"S-Stop that," she said again, but her voice was barely a whisper.   
  
He kissed her neck, then along the line of her jaw. "Shhh, Machka. Open your mouth a little, hmm?"  
  
"No...I will not!" she squeaked. But her arms were wrapped around his neck by then, and she was unconsciously rubbing her middle against him.   
  
"That's a good girl," he said before molding his mouth over hers. He didn't have to pressure her to receive him this time, and he dipped into her sweetness for several minutes, his tongue swirling, mating with hers until she was gasping for breath. He was a little out of breath himself, but he didn't want to release her yet. He teased her lower lip again, enjoying the soft whimpers she made in the back of her throat. Make her purr, he thought, before sliding his tongue back in again. She sighed softly and murmured his name. He kissed, exerting just enough pressure as his mouth slanted over hers again and again. He was pleased when she finally did start to purr, like a kitten.   
  
She was perfect.  
  
Sky was dizzy when he pulled away from her. She had been pushed against a bookcase, and was clutching a shelf with one hand for support. Her arms dropped to her sides and she had to lean back for a moment, catching her breath.  
  
"I'll see you, Sky," he said softly.   
  
"Mmm...huh?"  
  
He grinned. "I have to go."  
  
"You...you do?"  
  
"Yeah. You need to get some more rest. And if I stayed, you wouldn't get any rest at all. I'll give you a call tomorrow."  
  
"Oh...yes. Th-thank you."  
  
Luka smiled. "I should thank you. I haven't had so much fun in a long time."  
  
Her blue eyes widened a little, and she blushed pink. "Y-You haven't?"  
  
"No. Now, do you believe it?"  
  
"Believe what?"  
  
The woman seemed to be having trouble hanging on to a thought. Hell, so am I, Luka admitted to himself. "Do you believe, now, that you're a beautiful woman?"  
  
"Umm...uh..."  
  
"I thought so. Get some sleep, Machka." He smiled at her, turned, and left her bedroom. A few moments later, she heard her front door close. Sky hopped to her bed and sat down, then she stretched out, pulling the blankets over her body. How could she sleep, after being kissed like that?   
  
Yawning, she stretched. She was sure she wouldn't be able to sleep for a long time. She was thinking about just that as her eyelids grew heavy, her body relaxed, and she drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.   
  
  
To be continued... 


	10. Citizen X (Part 10)

TITLE: Citizen X (Part 10/?)  
AUTHOR: Miesque  
DISCLAIMER: The characters from "ER" are the sole property of NBC, Amblin Entertainment and Warner Bros. They are only being used in this fanfiction series for entertainment purposes and no profit is being made by the author. Sadly enough.   
RATING: PG-13 (mild language, sexual situations)  
SETTING: End of season seven into season eight  
CATEGORY: Luka Kovac/original character; drama, mystery, romance, blah blah blah...  
ARCHIVE: If you must  
SPOILERS: For season seven & eight   
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to Ellen Hursh for feedback and suggestions.  
  
===============  
  
Sky was a little *less* frustrated with things now. At least she was back on her feet again, though she was under orders to take it slow. She tired easily, anyway. Her mind was whirling with the events of last week, and that alone did a good job of making her feel a little fatigued and anxious and...well, God knows what. Achy, for one thing.   
  
He had kissed her, for God's sake. A real kiss that had nothing to do with being angry or frustrated with her. He had told her she was beautiful...*gorgeous*, in fact. Having him tell her that did something to her, though Sky didn't really recognize it at first. Her first day back on the job, she casually threw on one of the new outfits she'd bought at Marshall Field's-a burnt-orange colored silk blouse, a dangerous-looking camel-brown miniskirt and a pair of not-too-high heels, along with her duster (just back from the cleaners, no less). When she'd walked into the station, heads had turned and people she'd known for years stared at her, momentarily confused. And it seemed like none of her male colleagues could get any work done.  
  
When Det. Kowolski called her "Legs", she'd been startled. "What?"  
  
"Some pair ah gams you got there, Sky. Whyncha ever dress that way before? You'll have the whole vice squad up, botherin' us, before ya know it."  
  
"Whaaat?"  
  
"Sorry, sorry...uh...yeah...gotta say, before you deck me, that you do look great." Then he'd ducked out. Sky frowned. What the hell was going on here?   
  
"Sky? Get in here!" Captain Sweeney yelled from his office door.  
  
She sighed and walked-well, limped a bit, really, but she was already getting tired-confidently to his office, trying to ignore the curious stares she was getting. Had everybody here been taken over by the Pod People?   
  
"Siddown," he said. "Listen, that information you presented for the FBI profiler...you were dead on. The profile she submitted was *exactly* as you said. That he is targeting a specific type of person, though it is narrowed down to Croatians. She said that the guy is very likely Croatian, single, lives alone, probably about thirty-five years old. All his victims do, indeed, have a common thread. Lonely girls, mainly, besides the four male victims that were possibly a means of covering his tracks, all recent immigrants, all kind of...how did you put it? *Isolated*?"  
  
"Yes." Sky nodded, smoothing her skirt nervously. She wasn't quite used to wearing a mini yet. She crossed her legs, and then wondered why Sweeney started coughing so violently. Oh, must have inhaled some of that powdered sugar off his doughnut.  
  
"Anyway...Sky, we have sort of an idea. Now, we know you don't speak Croatian. But...uh...how do I put this? The killer might consider...well, if you were to start frequenting those clubs. *Alone*, perhaps you could draw him out? And we're still trying to track down Franja Zganjar's boyfriend. Seems he's out of town on business of some sort. It's just a thought, anyway. We're still working out the logistics with the FBI. But think about it a bit, eh?"  
  
"Uh...sure. Is there anything else?" she asked, standing up.  
  
"Yeah. You look...different."  
  
"I do? Oh, well...this is sort of a new...look...I'm going for. Kinda tired of the whole 'frumpy washerwoman' fad and am now...uh...exploring new territory." She made a kind of sweeping gesture with her arms. "Or something. Anyway. I've got paperwork to do."  
  
"Yeah, still desk jockeying. Probably a good idea, for a while at least. 'Till your ankle heals."  
  
"Yep. Thanks, Captain."  
  
"Sure, Sky. Any time."   
  
===============  
  
Luka yawned, stretching, trying to get rid of a crick in his neck. No use, he thought. Though I may ask Randi to give me a "pop" during my break. He poured himself another cup of coffee and watched Mark Greene stroll into the ER, carrying a stack of charts in his arms, looking a little harried. But he was apparently in a good mood-he was whistling and wearing his silly Elmer Fudd hat.   
  
"Morning, Mark," he called from the front desk.  
  
"Oh, hey, Luka. How are you?"  
  
"Fine. Just fine. How's the rug monkey?"  
  
"She's great. Coming in today for her shots. Have you seen Elizabeth?"  
  
"Mmm? Oh, no. Might be up in surgery."  
  
Mark nodded. "How're things going with that serial killer...uh...thing?"   
  
"Not all together great, but he's gone a whole week without killing anybody. That's always a plus."  
  
"Yeah. I think I saw that detective once. Krasu-...?"  
  
"Krasuljak."  
  
"Ah. Kind of a tough customer, huh?"   
  
"You don't know the half of it," Luka muttered into his coffee cup. "Mark...could I ask you something?"  
  
"Uh, sure." The two men trailed into the lounge, where Mark got his labcoat and stethoscope out of his locker.  
  
"We've both been married, but I assume you've had a little more...uh...experience with the whole dating thing, right?"  
  
"What, Luka, do you want me to tell you all about the birds and the bees?" Mark grinned mischievously, but off Luka's glare, he laughed. "I'm kidding. What's the problem?"  
  
"Well...uh...I don't have a lot of experience with it," Luka muttered.  
  
"I thought you dated Abby for, what, nine months?"  
  
"That wasn't dating," Luka countered. "That was..."  
  
"A disaster?"  
  
"Yeah. Anyway. There's a woman I've been considering...dating."  
  
"Didn't you also date that French waitress?"  
  
"Yes, but Mark, you're not paying attention here. I'm *serious* about this woman."  
  
"Ah...what's she like?"  
  
"Well, she's..."  
  
"A transvestite?"  
  
"Mark!"  
  
"I'm sorry. This is just so funny, you know? Every nurse in this ER wants to drag you into a closet and yet you're standin' here asking *me* about dating."  
  
"They *what*?!" Luka gasped.  
  
"Didn't you know...? Oh. Well. Cat's outta the bag, then. Okay. Dating...hmm...well, first the boy approaches the girl. You'd need a line, you know? How about 'You have very nice breasts'? That always worked for me, anyway. And then the boy says, 'Will you go out with me'? and the girl says, 'Okay!'" Mark used a falsetto voice, impersonating the girl. "Then you take her to McDonald's for McNuggets and fries and then you have sex with her in the back seat of your father's Studebaker and then, a few months later, she takes a trip to 'visit her aunt' in Terre Haute and..."  
  
"Mark, I am going to punch you right in the face," Luka said icily.  
  
Giggling almost hysterically, Mark shook his head. "You have to catch me first, man. Listen...I'll be serious for a moment, then I'll return to mocking you. Perhaps I'll even spread the news around that you have the hots for some sweetie. But I'll tell you...in all seriouness, 'cause I know this is serious...just be yourself, be honest, and don't let her get a word in edgewise until you've made your case. Then let her decide. I mean, if she...bwa-haha...likes you she'll...uh...say yes."  
  
"Well, that's the *problem*, Mark," Luka muttered. "I'm not sure if she does...uh...like me."  
  
"Oh? Is this sort of an antagonistic...oh...oh! I get it! It's Krasuljak! You have a thing for Krasuljak, right? I heard about her visit to the ER last week. Wish I'd have seen her then Malik said she had legs that went on for miles, and..."  
  
"Start running!" Luka said, advancing toward Mark, who was hooting with laughter by now. The senior attending wisely made a dash to the door and was already halfway up the hall by the time Luka came out. He nearly ran into Randi, who put her hands on her hips and glared up at him, obviously outraged.   
  
"Have you gone and gotten somebody in trouble, Luka?" she asked him, scowling.  
  
"Wha...what?" He wanted to yell that he never even *owned* a Studebaker.  
  
"There's six huge guys here, all wantin' to talk to you about their sister. Whatja do?"  
  
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Randi. What six guys? What sister?"  
  
"I dunno. They just demand that you come out and talk to 'em, right now. So get out there. God, and I thought you were a real nice guy. Don't tell me you went and knocked up some girl!"  
  
"I have not knocked up anybody!" Luka snapped. Uh-oh, he thought. Please, Juliette, don't tell me we had an accident. Please, please, please. Luka gathered up his nerve and hauled ass down the hall to chairs, where he spotted six very large men sitting together. One of them, he noted with some alarm, was wearing a priest's collar. What the hell...?  
  
===============  
  
"Whoa. He's a big guy, huh?" Mike muttered to Nick. "The six of us could probably take him, but he'd still do some damage, I think."  
  
"That's Sky's guy, huh?" Pauly whispered as Kovac approached. "At least he looks suitably nervous. But yeah...he'd definitely put up a good fight. And she said he was good with a gun. No European dandy there."  
  
"No. He's got bone, I'll say. Not tons of muscle, but lotsa bone and he'd pack a punch," Andy said, nodding in agreement.   
  
"Can I help you?" Kovac asked. Mike stepped forward.   
  
"Mike Krasuljak," he said, extending his hand. "My brothers-Nick, Andy, Paul, Pete and Jack."  
  
Kovac looked a tad confused as he stared at them all. "Yes? How can I help you?"  
  
"We're here about our sister. Sky."  
  
"Oh. Uh...her ankle is healing nicely."  
  
"That's not what we're here about, Doc. We're here about *you*."  
  
"Me?"   
  
"Yeah. Just warnin' ya, okay? She's our sister. Nobody...and I mean *nobody*...hurts our baby sister. She sheds a tear 'cause ah you, and you're dead, got it?"  
  
"Uh..."  
  
"I mean, it's nothin' personal. But be warned that we are all police officers...except Nick here, who I suppose as a Roman Catholic priest would have trouble with homicide...but the rest of us would have no compunction whatsoever about stringin' you or anybody else up if they hurt Sky. We look out for her."  
  
"I think Sky can look out for herself," Kovac answered, eyeing them all carefully. Mike had the strange sense that the doctor was sizing *them* up, too. "She is heavily armed, after all. I'm sure that if I were to...ah...*hurt* her in some way, she'd take care of the situation quite well herself."  
  
"You sayin' our sister's got an itchy trigger finger?"  
  
"I'm saying, yet again, that your sister is over thirty and can take care of herself," Kovac answered, his voice hardening. "And I have no intention of ever hurting her."  
  
"The road to hell is paved with good intentions, Doc. Just be warned, all right?"  
  
"Luka, what's going on here?" A red-headed woman with a crutch approached, a concerned expression on her face. "Is everything all right?"  
  
"No problem at all, Kerry," Kovac told her. "I was just talking with these gentleman about a...a patient. And these gentlemen were all about to leave, weren't they?"  
  
Mike grinned. He liked this guy. He had guts. Most people, when faced with the mere *threat* of the anger of the Krasuljak brothers, turned tail and ran for the hills. Kovac had stood his ground. Yeah, he had mettle all right. Their Irish grandfather would call the guy a Thoroughbred. "Yeah, we're leavin'. Have a nice day, Doc. See ya 'round."  
  
"Yeah. I can hardly wait."  
  
===============  
  
Sky hadn't meant to doze off. She had taken the last of her pain medications yesterday evening "as directed". Her ankle didn't hurt much any more, though she was still kind of careful about how she walked. She had made it home at five o'clock, changed into jeans and a Yale T-shirt, gathered up her laundry and started trying to clean her apartment. The place was just a *wreck*. It was embarrassing to put out so many bags of trash, but when it was all said and done, it was worth it to finally see the place clean. She could walk from one room to the other without tripping on anything.  
  
She had fallen asleep on her couch, breathing in the scent of air freshener and Lysol, and woke up at eight in the evening feeling remarkably...well, *refreshed*. She was thinking about taking a shower when she spied her Citizen X file on the coffee table and opened it again. She looked at the photos of all his victims as she ate a roast beef sandwich. The four young men he'd killed weren't giving her many clues, besides the fact that they were all recent immigrants, spoke little or no English and had an indisputable look of innocence about them. The six women he'd killed so far...Sky had five photos so far, the apparent first victim-the girl that had been found at the city dump, the day Luka had kissed her-was still unidentified. She looked at each photo, noting that each girl had clear white skin, dark hair, a definite 'Slavic' look about them, and a look of purity to them. Interesting, she thought, that Franja Zganjar had not been raped but had turned out to have not been a virgin.  
  
Semen samples. All kinds of fiber samples. The forensics department had done a smashing job of collecting every tidbit they could find at every crime scene. There were microscopic photos of fiber samples, and Sky's trained eye could tell that various fibers from each crime scene matched. The tedious part of the investigation, she thought. The legwork-tracking down the specific *type* of carpet fiber, and then finding out that it was only made at one particular carpet factory outside Chicago. She had made the fifty mile drive out there and had collected a piece of the carpet from them and the samples matched *perfectly*. But the glitch was the fact that that type of carpet was distributed to various department stores throughout the Midwest. The killer could have bought it *anywhere*.   
  
Gloomily, she turned the pages, re-reading reports and Luka's transcriptions of interviews. His handwriting was so familiar to her now that she could see it in her sleep. Of course, when she slept, she didn't dream much about his handwriting. She dreamed about his hands on her body and his scent and the way his arms felt...  
  
"Hey, Sky, open up, willya?" Mike yelled.   
  
"Oh, dammit, Mike, what do you want?" she yelled, getting up and stomping to the door. She flung it open and glared at her oldest brother. Behind him stood his wife, Louise, and their six kids. "Oh...uh...did I say a *bad word*? Shame on my little self. Come in."  
  
The kids stampeded into her living room, and Louise greeted her with a grin. Sky rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me. Krasuljak number seven is on the way?"  
  
"Yep. It was inevitable."  
  
"Well, you know how it is with us Krasuljak men," Mike boasted. "We just look at our wives and they're knocked up."  
  
"Oh, really? Then why did we have to have that little consultation with the urologist before this one was conceived, hmm?" Louise smiled sweetly. Mike glared at his wife, then at Sky.   
  
"TMI, Louise," Sky said, shaking her head.   
  
"What's for dinner?" Mike said.  
  
"Dinner? Am I expected to feed you and your vast brood? I think not! I just made a roast beef sandwich for my dinner and...oh, by the way, Mike, I found out some interesting information a little while ago."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Yes. I was informed that our surname means 'daisy'. Is that a hoot or what?"  
  
"*Daisy*?" Louise laughed. "Oh, that's sweet!"  
  
Mike rolled his eyes. "And who informed you of this?"  
  
"Somebody I know who speaks Croatian. Didn't Great-Grandpa Krasuljak teach you any Croatian, Mike?"  
  
"Nope. Daisy, huh?"  
  
"Yeah. The Daisy Brothers. Sounds like a hillbilly band you'd see on 'Hee Haw'," Sky snickered.   
  
"Ah, shaddup," Mike grumbled, pulling a chair out for Louise before sitting down himself. "Oh...by the way, the brothers and I had a very pleasant visit with a certain Croatian today, as it turns out."  
  
Sky was digging in her refrigerator, being impeded slightly by her little niece Zoe, who at two years of age was already forming complete sentences and basically had her parents wrapped around her little finger. Sky smiled to herself, thinking about a past argument she'd had with Luka.   
  
"Oh?" she asked absently. She couldn't find anything in the fridge besides some tomatoes and mayo. She got the rest of her sliced roast beef out, some bread and honey mustard, and set the stuff on her table. "A Croatian?"  
  
"Yeah. Dr. Luka Kovac himself. Interesting guy."  
  
"What?!" Sky whirled around and stared at her brother. The kids all stopped their play, and her brother stared up at her, momentarily taken aback.  
  
"Well, yeah. We all paid him a visit at the hospital. You know...just scopin' him out, seein' if he was on the up an' up. Looked okay, though I'd have to say he's a little too good looking, in my opinion. You'll have lots of competition to deal with, sis."  
  
Sky looked around the room wildly, then her eyes clapped on the butcher knife. She snatched it up and gave serious thought to simply killing him. But that would upset the kids, and Louise was *pregnant*, so she put it down. "You went to see him? With the brothers? All of them?!?"  
  
"Yep." Mike popped a slice of tomato into his mouth, looking pleased with himself. "It was mainly just a test. To see if he had any guts, you know. I mean, datin' a Krasuljak is a tough job. Marryin' one is even tougher. We wanted to see if this guy had what it takes."  
  
"He doesn't want to *marry* me, you idiot. Whatever gave you that idea?!"  
  
"Huh? Well...I dunno. Seems like...you know...destiny. He's Croatian, you're...well, almost Croatian. I mean, somewhat Croatian. And he's a doctor, so he's prob'ly got some cash put away. He'd be a good provider. And you gotta admit, the kids'd be good looking and *tough*."  
  
"I cannot *believe* you would do a thing like that!!" she shouted. "You stupid bastard!"  
  
"Sky..." Louise said softly. "You're over-reacting..."  
  
"You can shut up, too. Mike, let me tell you *one last time*. I'll speak really slow so you'll be sure and understand me, okay? Do. Not. Interfere. With. My. Personal. Life. Again! Ever!"  
  
"What personal life?!" Mike yelled back. "All you do is work and obsess over a serial killer. You're thirty-four years old, sis. You ain't gettin' any younger. You need to get married, settle down, have a few kids and be...*normal*!"  
  
"Get out!" Sky screamed. "Get out of my apartment right now. Louise, you and the kids can stay. Mike can sit outside and freeze for all I care!"  
  
The kids continued whizzing around the room, totally unconcerned with their aunt's screaming fit. They were accustomed to her screaming at-even *hitting*-their father and uncles. It was perfectly normal, to them.   
  
"Sky," Louise said, extending her hand. "Please. You know Mike was only thinking of your welfare though I have to say that his actions were *incredibly STUPID* and he was being a total buttinsky and that if I hear he's done something like this again I'll kick his ass 'til hell won't have it any more."  
  
Sky was breathing hard, her eyes blazing with rage. "Do you have to humiliate me all the time, Mike? Is that part of your life's *mission*? First you dragged me to that stupid pool party back when I was eighteen...that was horrible enough. Then you do this to me. *This*!"  
  
"Those people were starin' at you because..." Mike sputtered. "Because suddenly you were...you know...I mean, you'd always been really..."  
  
"What?!" Sky yelled. "Disgusting? Freakish?"  
  
"Pretty! Sky, you wouldn't believe the number of guys who asked me about you after that pool party. And that wasn't my fault. You're the one who came out of the house wearin' a two-piece bikini. Nobody *made* you put that thing on. So don't go pinnin' that crap on me again. I wanted you to have a good time. I was hopin' you'd enjoy yourself and start lettin' some of those guys *talk* to you. But half of 'em were afraid of you and the other half only got tongue-tied around you. And Tommy Watson was a jerk to *everybody*, Sky. Not just you."   
  
Louise stepped between them. "All right. Enough with the yelling. Sky, sit. I said sit!"  
  
Sky scowled but obeyed her sister-in-law.   
  
"Now listen. We're both aware that Mike is a twit. But he's a twit with his heart in the right place. So he wants to protect you. Is that a bad thing? In this day and age, it's admirable and even rather sweet. And Mike, we are also aware that Sky is very insecure, very shy and *very* vulnerable and does not have a *clue* about how she affects the opposite sex, so perhaps a little more *sensitivity*," she gave him a shove, and he sat down again "to her situation would be in order!"  
  
Sky glared at Louise, arms folded across her chest. She didn't understand what she was talking about. What effect?   
  
"Mike, apologize to your sister."  
  
"I will not!"  
  
"You will, or you won't be gettin' any for *long* time!"  
  
"All right, all right. Geesh. I'm sorry."  
  
"Sky, apologize to your brother."  
  
"For what?!" Sky snapped, offended.  
  
"Now!"  
  
"All right. I'm sorry."  
  
"There. Now. Mike, say the blessing and let's eat."  
  
Mike stared at his wife, then prayed, "Thank you God for our lives. And thank You for peacemakers. Amen. Let's eat."  
  
===============  
  
Luka stretched out on his bed, staring at the ceiling, wishing he could go to sleep. He was running things around in his mind, trying to make things a little more clear. Sky's brothers had shaken him a little, but not too badly. If he had to, he would happily take them on in a fight, fair or dirty. If it meant being allowed to be around Sky, then so be it.  
  
God, where'd that come from? he thought. Good thing Danijela only had two brothers. Both of whom were much younger. At ten and twelve, the two boys probably couldn't have done much to him besides some shin damage. He sat up, accepting that sleep wasn't going to come any time soon. He got up and paced around the room for a minute, then opened the curtains and looked out at the city lights. He rarely looked out the window, mainly because windows unnerved him.  
  
Finally, unable to bear it any more, he snatched up the phone and dug in his pocket for Sky's number-he had stolen...uh, *borrowed*...it from the rolodex at the front desk, while Randi wasn't looking, several days ago. He had been carrying the card around in his wallet, right behind his precious photo of Danijela and Jasna. For a moment, he stared at the photo, and smiled. "All right, all right. Stop laughing at me. I was lousy at this the first time, wasn't I?"  
  
He dialed the number and listened nervously as her phone rang. Then he heard her snap "What?"  
  
"Sky? Uh...this is Luka."  
  
"Oh. Yeah."  
  
"I was wondering if you were...uh..."  
  
"Listen, I was hoping to discuss something with you," she said suddenly, cutting him off. "The killer has an MO of targeting young women of a certain type, right? I was thinking that perhaps I could...you know...be a decoy. Go undercover, start hanging around the clubs, that sort of thing. My captain's the one who suggested it yesterday, but I think it's a great idea. What do you think?"  
  
It took Luka a moment to get his mind in gear, then the enormity of what she'd said sank in. "What?!"  
  
"Well, I am considering it. Have been all day, really. I could start going to the clubs alone, sitting by myself, not talking to anyone. He seems to target...you know...lonely people. People that don't seem connected to anyone. Though I'll admit that Franja Zganjar wasn't really that isolated, as she was with some friends, but then again you have to admit she still fit the profile and she was somewhat isolated, since she didn't speak English...Luka, are you there?"  
  
"I'm here," he said, trying to catch his breath. "And I think it's a horrible idea. You could get yourself killed!"  
  
"Oh, don't be ridiculous. I've decided I'm gonna do it, anyway." He could hear water running-she was apparently washing dishes as she talked. "Anyway. Why'dja call?"  
  
"Uh...Sky, listen to me. Don't do this. You're putting yourself in danger. Why would you want to expose yourself to...to...a complete *nutcase* like this guy? I mean...Machka, don't do this. Ple-..."  
  
"What? You're telling me what to do and what not to do? When, exactly, did you become my keeper?"  
  
"I didn't!" he snapped, frustrated. "But you've got to be kidding, Sky. This guy is dangerous. This isn't fun and games, here. This is a serial killer. A complete psychotic."  
  
"Listen here. I am a trained law enforcement officer. I make a living at this, okay? I know what I'm doing."  
  
"Like hell you do," he growled. "You think you can take this guy on? What about the twelve other people that have taken him on so far? Including four relatively healthy men?"  
  
"Oh, well, thank you for being a sexist, Dr. Kovac."  
  
"Machka...Sky, listen. Let's make a deal, okay? You promise you won't do this, I'll tell you what Machka means, okay?"  
  
"Hell no. A little mystery in life can be a good thing, and besides, once I catch this guy, we won't have to deal with each other any more, so eventually my idle curiosity about the meaning will eventually slip away. So...goodbye, Dr. Kovac."  
  
"Sky?"   
  
All he heard was a dialtone. He set the receiver down on the hook and sat on his bed for a long time, staring at his hands. He was going to have to stop her. *How* he'd do it, he didn't know. But there was no way in hell he'd let her put herself in so much danger. He'd put Danijela and his children in the line of fire, after all, and the consequences had been horrifying. He wasn't going to let it happen again.   
  
  
To be continued... 


	11. Citizen X (Part 11)

TITLE: Citizen X (Part 11/?)  
AUTHOR: Miesque  
DISCLAIMER: The characters from "ER" are the sole property of NBC, Amblin Entertainment and Warner Bros. They are only being used in this fanfiction series for entertainment purposes and no profit is being made by the author. Sadly enough.   
RATING: PG-13 (mild language, sexual situations)  
SETTING: End of season seven into season eight  
CATEGORY: Luka Kovac/original character; drama, mystery, romance, blah blah blah...  
ARCHIVE: If you must  
SPOILERS: For season seven & eight   
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to Ellen Hursh for feedback and suggestions.  
  
===============  
  
Luka was thoroughly pissed.  
  
He had arrived at the police station at seven in the morning, demanding to speak with Captain Max Sweeney. But, as it turned out, Sweeney wouldn't be arriving until eleven, so he had to sit and wait. His companions in the waiting area were somewhat more...*rank* than he really would have preferred. There was a gigantic biker with more tattoos than could possibly be counted, several hookers that kept looking at him and smiling impishly, and one very strange little man who sat apart from everyone, the front of his coat moving up and down and...oh, God, that's disgusting, Luka thought.  
  
"Dr. Luka Kovac?" the desk clerk called. "Captain Sweeney can see you now."  
  
"Uh...thanks," Luka said, standing up. The blonde hooker was smiling at him.   
  
"What line of work are you in, baby?" she asked him.  
  
"I'm a doctor," he answered, taken aback.  
  
"Oh? Cool. Maybe we can play doctor some time, hmm?"  
  
"Uh...sorry. Taken." That gave him reason to think for a second. *Taken*? Well...he supposed he was. He wouldn't be here now if he wasn't.  
  
She shrugged and returned to her copy of 'Elle'. Luka followed the desk clerk down the hall to Sweeney's office. The captain gestured absently for him to sit. "You wanted to see me about something, Dr. Kovac?"  
  
"Yes. Sky informed me last night that she intends to make herself a...*decoy* for this serial killer. She is going to put herself *in the line of fire*? And you're going to allow it?"  
  
"Yes. As a matter of fact, I will. In fact, I suggested it. She is quite capable of taking care of herself. Hell, Kovac, she's beaten everybody in this station at hand-to-hand fighting...well, except Mazursky, but Mazursky is seven feet tall and uproots mighty oaks for fun, and even then she did some damage to him before he took her down. In fact, if I recall, he had to take a few days off to recover and she was back in the station the next day, being her usual difficult self. So believe me, she is capable of fighting off any perp."  
  
"What if this 'perp' is seven feet tall and can uproot a mighty oak?" Luka snapped. "What then?"  
  
"Then he'd certainly stand out, wouldn't he? And Sky'd just shoot him."  
  
"What if he gets her gun?"  
  
"Kovac, listen to me," Sweeney said patiently, sitting down. He studied the slightly younger man carefully. This guy was obviously a bit...well, loony. He clearly didn't understand police procedure, but it was also very apparent that Kovac was completely crazy about Sky. So much so, Sweeney thought with a smirk, that he wanted her to be safe. Not that Sweeney could argue about that. He'd make damn sure Sky was safe during her undercover operations. What, did Kovac think that he'd put one of his cops in danger? "Sky will have backup while working this operation. She will be protected extremely well. I wouldn't just send her out there by herself and put her in the path of a psychotic killer."  
  
Luka didn't feel much better. He cracked his knuckles nervously. "I don't like it."  
  
"Well, it isn't your decision, is it, Doctor?"  
  
"Dammit, how can you even consider this?"  
  
"Because she's good, that's why. She's one of the best detectives on this force, Dr. Kovac. Maybe *the* best. She is meticulous, painstaking, and relentless. If I were a criminal, I would be terrified of having Sky Krasuljak on my trail, because she would rather die than give up."  
  
Luka frowned. "Yeah, that's what worries me."  
  
Sweeney sighed. "Believe me, in the past I have pushed her, trying to find her limits, until I realized she didn't *have* any limits. So if you think that you can stop her, go ahead and try, Doc. You won't succeed. So I would suggest you just try to keep...a level head about this? Or at least try to see her point of view...oh, she just walked in," he said, nodding toward the window. Luka looked out and saw Sky talking to the desk sergeant. She was dressed in a very smart-looking peach-colored outfit, complete with a white silk blouse, thigh-length mini and low heels. She had her hair done up in a French braid, which was quite fetching. She looked *radiant*.  
  
Luka had hoped to leave before she arrived, but since that was now out of the question, he figured his best defense was offense. He stood up, wanting his height to be an advantage, and waited. It wasn't long before she looked in his direction, and immediately her mouth formed a thin, angry line and her eyes started blazing. She marched into Sweeney's office and faced Luka, hands on her hips. "What the hell are you doing here?" she snarled. "I told you what I intend to do and if you don't like it, tough."  
  
"Your boyfriend was just about to leave, Detective," Sweeney cut in.   
  
"He is *not* my boyfriend. He isn't even my friend. He actually has the *gall* to think that just because we...I mean...that he can control my life. That he can tell me what to do! Nobody tells me what to do, got it, Kovac?"  
  
Luka realized that his first line of offense had just flown out the window. He stepped forward, glaring down at her. "Listen here. I didn't tell you what to do, Sky. I am merely looking out for your welfare."  
  
"Well, you can look out for your *own* welfare. Starting with walking out that door and never coming back."  
  
"That's kinda impossible, Sky, since you're in his way," Sweeney interrupted. "Secondly, he'll be back the next time we need a translator. And Sky...lighten up, all right?"  
  
She stepped around Luka, and furiously railed at the captain. "What?! Are you on his side?"  
  
"I'm not on anybody's side. If you two are going to have a lover's spat, have it on somebody else's time, all right? Sky, I'm giving you a chance to run this operation yourself, but I am warning you to be extremely cautious, because as Dr. Kovac pointed out and no doubt you agree wholeheartedly, this Citizen X guy is a total *whacko* and is ten times as dangerous as you want to admit. You *will* have plenty of backup...in fact, I was thinking of you wearing a wire at all times. Just to be extra safe."  
  
"Oh, are you *nuts*?! Like this guy is going to approach a girl surrounded by a bunch of cops!"  
  
"Maybe not cops," Captain Sweeney muttered. "Maybe a...tall, rather menacing-looking Croatian?"  
  
"Get real!" she shouted.   
  
"Sky, you have always had a lot of difficulty with controlling your emotions, but if you want to be insubordinate to a superior officer, I would suggest you consider the consequences."  
  
She deflated a little and backed off. Luka, standing behind her, raised an eyebrow at Sweeney, who shrugged. "Since you don't speak Croatian anyway, Sky, I think it'd be a good idea for Kovac to be on hand to...instruct you. Yeah. I think that's a good idea. He could be nearby, giving you the correct phrases to use while people talk to you. I mean, having him in a police van wouldn't help, would it, since we both know that talking to somebody face-to-face requires a certain degree of...inflection."  
  
Sky rolled her eyes and looked back at Luka. "He's a linguistics major."  
  
"Ah."  
  
Sweeney grinned. "With a minor in social anthropology. We'll work out the remaining details of the op, Sky. Meanwhile, I think you and your boyfriend should have a talk."  
  
"He is not my boyfriend!" she shouted. "Why does everybody think he's my boyfriend?!"  
  
"Uh...because, basically, he *is*?" Sweeney countered calmly. "Get outta here, both of you."  
  
===============  
  
They went outside and headed toward the river, Luka actually having to walk fast to keep up with her. He finally gave up on keeping abreast of her and fell back, which gave him a chance to admire her figure and her legs. The new outfit accentuated every carefully toned curve, and her legs were simply amazing-Julia Roberts had nothing on this woman. Then again, he didn't like Julia, as her teeth kind of scared him.   
  
When Sky got to the river, she leaned against the rail and stared down at the water for a moment before she turned and faced him. "You had absolutely *no right* to go in there and try to talk my boss out of this operation!" she snapped. "I cannot *believe* you would be so...so..."  
  
"Concerned for your welfare?" he answered mildly.  
  
"*Presumptuous*!"  
  
"Ah. Is that what you think I'm being? Ridiculous. Like I said, I am merely concerned for your well-being. That would include being worried about you if you purposely put yourself in a situation where your life would be in danger. If that makes me some kind of *jerk*, for giving a damn, then so be it. I'll be a jerk, if that'll keep you safe."  
  
"Oh, come off it!" she shot back. "Like I told you last night, I can take care of myself."  
  
"Really? A few nights ago, I easily made it into your "secure" building and before you knew it I was kissing you...and you didn't seem to be putting up much of a fight, either."  
  
She flushed. "That has nothing to do with this situation. And...and I've already forgotten all about it." She gave her chin a haughty lift and she gave him a smug look, as if to say, 'So there!'  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Yes! It meant nothing to me, anyway. Absolutely nothing."  
  
Luka had to admit, he felt a little wounded. But his pride refused to let her see that. Instead, he narrowed his eyes at her. "Maybe you're right," he nodded. "Maybe it meant nothing. Maybe I just wanted to see what'd happen if I ruffled the feathers of the mighty Detective Sky Krasuljak, defender of the weak and helpless and soon-to-be bitter old spinster. I dunno...maybe it's your age. Maybe things are starting to...how I put this politely? *Sag*?" He made a gesture as if he were jiggling a pair of drooping breasts. "Or maybe I'm just losing interest." He didn't wait long to see her reaction-just a cold, hard but very brief stare. Then, he turned and stalked away, clenching his fists, not wanting her to see his anger and disappointment.  
  
===============  
  
Sky didn't want to admit that he'd hurt her. Didn't want to admit that his words had cut to the quick. She went to the police gym and changed into sweats, taped up her fists, and began practicing her moves on the rubber man at the far end of the building. She put 'Misirlou' on the stereo nearby, then proceeded to beat the dummy with her fists and her feet until she was exhausted. It took her a while to regain her composure, and she wasn't quite calmed when she glanced up and saw her brother Nick coming toward her. Oh, great, she thought. Mike's bad enough. Nick always feels like he's got to give me Brotherly Advice.  
  
"Let's see," Nick said, grinning. "When Sky listens to the 'Pulp Fiction' soundtrack, that only means one thing: she's mad."  
  
"I am mad."  
  
"Why? What happened?"  
  
Sky searched her mind quickly, then resumed kicking the dummy's head. "Bad morning at the grocery store."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"I mean, the parking lot is *packed*, right? I stood in line for at least an hour. Then, as soon as I come out of the store and start towards my car, there's some jerk in a Lincoln Continental followin' me at about two miles per hour, stalking me like a shark. I felt like I was in 'Jaws'." She punched the figure's face (painted, by some smart-ass vice cop, to look like Janet Reno) several more times, then gave it a few hard side-kicks. Wherever she was these days, Janet Reno was probably wondering why she had such a pounding headache.  
  
Nick grinned. "Somehow, I get the idea that your grocery experience isn't what has you so thoroughly pissed."  
  
"I mean, who the hell does he think he is?!" Sky growled as she resumed beating the figure. "Telling me I'm putting myself in too much danger? I've been shot at several times, so where was he then?"  
  
"The guy in the Continental, you mean?" Nick asked, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. It had always seemed rather strange that he, the best-looking of all the Krasuljak boys, had decided to go into the priesthood. Maybe it was because Tamsen O'Connor had been killed in that car accident, Sky thought before resuming her assault on Janet...er...the dummy.   
  
"No, Nick," she said impatiently. "It doesn't matter. It never mattered anyway. It'll never matter."  
  
"Ah. So it's too late, huh?." He paused a moment, looking at the ground. "You know, Sky, I know something about being too late," Nick said. "And the pain never goes away."  
  
She looked up at him, startled, then looked away. "It's not..."  
  
"Cut the crap, sis. I know Mike was pretty brutal with you the other night, so I'll be a little kinder. But you know how we all are. We're blunt to the point of being *cruel*. I'll never love anybody the way I loved Tamsen. Any chance I had for that went out the window the day she died. Are you gonna do the same thing? Wait until suddenly it's gone and then you're alone? That way, I suppose you can blame everybody around you for your mistake. Because even though I'm fairly happy with the life I chose for myself, I still miss her. I will always love her. I light a candle for her every night. The church and the Pope can't stop me from loving a woman that way, can they? And I'll call you a damned fool if you try to stop *yourself* from loving somebody."  
  
"Wh-where did this come from?" she asked softly. He had never mentioned Tamsen to her before-she had only heard about her through various off-hand conversations with other family members. Sky had, after all, been quite young when all that had happened. She vaguely recalled a funeral and her brother's months-long silence.  
  
"I dunno. Maybe I feel philosophical today. Priests are supposed to be philosophical, aren't they? The whole Bing Crosby or Spencer Tracy thing. Maybe I'm giving sainthood a try, for after I'm dead." He grinned at her. Sky knew that a lot of the women in Nick's parish got all fluttery and moon-eyed when he flashed them that smile. Too bad he wasn't Episcopalian, she thought. Of course, then Mom would kill him.  
  
"It doesn't matter, anyway, Nick," she said, unwrapping the tape around her knuckles. "It's too late already. I was...just a real bitch to him."  
  
"The Kovac guy, you mean?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Is he still alive?"  
  
"Well, yeah...last I knew..."  
  
"Then it's not too late. Where there is life, there is hope."  
  
===============  
  
It was far too noisy for Luka's taste. He hated noisy places, particularly after a long, tiring day at the hospital. But he was here, so he might as well make the best of the situation. Do something useful. Make his presence known, at least. He looked around the nightclub, trying to find some way to get around the crowd of people dancing...well, actually, it looked more like random hopping. The place was too noisy, too smoky and the flashing lights made his eyes hurt. It was like having his photograph taken a hundred times over. And the dancing...whatever happened to the Twist, the Mashed Potato... the uh... Corn on the Cob? Charleston? Stroll? Electrocuted Monkey? He didn't know. He had never liked dancing anyway.  
  
Seeing that it was impossible to go *around* the dancers, he decided to go through them. He was bumped against several times and almost knocked to his knees twice before he finally made it to the bar. He ordered a beer and looked around. The club was mainly populated by young people, almost all of whom were on the dance floor, gyrating about. Luka suddenly felt very *old*. Even the bartender looked like he needed to have his ID checked.   
  
No matter how noisy the place was, however, he couldn't get his mind off Sky. Or, worse yet, the things he'd said to her. He had been unnecessarily cruel, and it was a totally new thing for Luka-to be totally insensitive to a woman's feelings. Angry words had come out of him before he'd even known what he was saying, and he felt heartsick over it. Sky hadn't deserved that. She deserved kindness and some understanding. She *was* doing her job to the best of her ability. She was...a lot like him, except that her fuse was a lot shorter and she used sarcasm as a means of self-defense. Luka couldn't call himself sarcastic, really, though in the time he'd spent with Sky he found his intellect and wit challenged all the time. She didn't pull punches, but he knew he could handle a few knocks. Sky however...he had seen the hurt in her eyes. She was a lot more fragile and easily wounded than he'd thought.   
  
She was getting to him, that was for sure. She'd gotten to him the first time he'd met her. He had seen past her facade of toughness and biting wit and had been amazed almost from the beginning at the woman she kept hidden from everyone else. In fact, Luka rather liked that he alone saw that part of her. It was like a special gift he alone possessed-he knew the real Sky Krasuljak.   
  
And he knew he was falling in love with her.  
  
With some determination, Luka pushed thoughts of Sky out of his mind. He had business to attend to her. Duty called.  
  
His eyes scanned the place, looking at the people sitting at the tables. He spotted one young woman sitting alone, sipping what appeared to be a strange member of the pina colada family. She was slim and dark-haired, with a wide, pretty face that made him think briefly of a photograph he'd seen once of one of the daughters of Tsar Nicholas II of Russia. And that gave him a jolt, of course, as he remembered the fates of the Romanovs.  
  
He approached her, feeling a little ridiculous, and stood by the table until she looked up.  
  
"Uh...hi."  
  
She blinked up at him, then looked down. Clearly the shy wallflower type, he thought. A perfect victim for that psycho.   
  
"Do you speak English?" he asked her.  
  
She looked at him again, then shook her head, blushing prettily. Then, in Croatian, she said, "I do not like this drink. It tastes funny."  
  
"Probably the smoke," Luka smiled. "Can I sit?"  
  
"Umm...yes."  
  
"Ah...how long have you been in America?"  
  
"A few months," she answered. "I came here with my parents...I mean, to America. With my parents. I came here by myself."  
  
Yeah. That's just the problem, Luka thought. "Oh. What is your name?"  
  
"Danijela Draskovic."  
  
"D-Danijela?" he asked, stunned.  
  
"Yes. What is your name?"  
  
"Luka. Luka Kovac."  
  
"Oh." She played with her glass for a moment, obviously nervous.   
  
"Listen, I'm not hitting on you, okay? I...uh..."  
  
"Would you like to dance?" she asked.  
  
"No, no...where in Croatia are you from?"  
  
"Zadar."  
  
"Ah." Luka searched his mind for anyone he may have known from Zadar. There had been Pavle Bradica, but he had been in the black market, transferring goods from Western Europe into Croatia, including some very illegal not-so-goods that Luka had disapproved of both morally and vocally, which was part of why he was no longer friends with Pavle. Then there had been Petar Fraculj, who had been an arms dealer who had later emigrated to Russia, where, at last report, he ran an extremely successful Starbucks. Not that the two men were reflections of the otherwise beautiful city of Zadar. Petar and Pavle had both been kind of the dregs of society and it wouldn't have mattered where they were from.  
  
"What about you?" she asked.  
  
"Umm...I grew up in a village on the coast. At Vodice."  
  
"Oh! My father was from Vodice. He worked in the fish market. It's such a beautiful town."  
  
"Yes. Very much a tourist trap. So many hotels and...uh...foreign boats in the slips." Luka drummed his fingers on the table, looking out at the crowd. He didn't notice anybody who seemed out of place, but then again, he wasn't entirely sure what to look *for*.   
  
"Are you married?" Danijela asked him.  
  
"Hmm? Oh. No, I'm not."  
  
"Do you have a girlfriend?"  
  
"Sort of...well...no. Not really. No."  
  
"So...you want a girl in particular to be your girlfriend?"  
  
"Thing is," Luka said tiredly. "She is no girl. And we seem to fight all the time. Strange, huh? And today, I said some cruel things to her that I can't take back no matter how much I want to take them back."  
  
"Tell her you are sorry, then," Danijela smiled. "That's what I'd do, anyway. Perhaps she will accept your apology?"  
  
"More likely, she'd just belt me," Luka muttered. The girl laughed, and he smiled slightly. He decided to just relax a bit and enjoy a little female company. His intentions toward this girl were entirely honorable-he had no motivation except to protect her. Not that he was going to tell *her* that. Besides, the girl was charming and very sweet-and rather wise beyond her years. And it was nice to converse in his native tongue with someone from 'home' again. Granted, they weren't from the same place, but they were Dalmatians.   
  
And, Luka thought, a Dalmatian can't change his spots.   
  
===============  
  
"Now listen, it's very important that you understand me," Luka told the girl as he drove her home. It was almost midnight, and he was worn out. "*Never*, ever, ever accept a ride home from a stranger, okay? I mean, I know I'm a stranger...basically. But not all strangers are as nice as...I can be. I mean, as nice as I *am*. There's a lot of crazy people out there..."  
  
"Like the serial killer?" she said softly. "I have read about him in the paper."  
  
"Yes, and that makes me wonder what you were doing at a nightclub, alone. And another word of advice: never go *anywhere* alone, Danijela. Never. It's very dangerous. A young, attractive girl like you could get very seriously hurt..."  
  
"Or killed," she answered, looking at him seriously.   
  
"Yes. Or killed. And you have your whole life ahead of you, so don't go putting yourself in...in danger when it isn't even necessary. You have to be careful in this world. I learned that the hard way, believe me."  
  
"What about taking risks?" she asked. "Sometimes you have to take risks."  
  
"Well, at your age, maybe taking risks isn't such a great idea. Minor risks are okay. But major risks are a different story altogether."  
  
"So at your age, are you taking risks?" she smiled.  
  
"Probably not enough," he shrugged. "But things are very complicated in my life right now."  
  
He pulled over in front of her house, which was in a nice part of town. She started to get out, then looked at him. "Thank you for the ride, Dr. Kovac. You are very kind."  
  
"Yeah. No problem...none at all. But remember...never go anywhere alone again. *Ever*. Understand? And always have a trustworthy friend drive you home if you do end up alone somewhere. And carry a can of Mace. And maybe a brick in your purse. Risks are great. But never risk your life. It isn't worth it, okay?"  
  
She smiled a little. "You're a little crazy, aren't you?"  
  
"Yeah, most likely."   
  
She giggled, then turned and walked up the path to her front door. Luka waited until she was safely inside before he drove away. He thought about Sky as he made his way back to his hotel. Thought of the hurt expression on her face when he'd lashed out at her so angrily today. She had pushed him too far, and he had pushed back, but there was no justification for reacting that way. She was just as afraid of the risk as he was.   
  
Sighing, he turned on the radio and searched around for the local news station. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear any news right now, but he supposed it was better than punching buttons, trying to avoid bad music while searching for something by Queen or David Bowie.  
  
"...body was found in a field near the Cedar Crest Apartment complex on Pilusaki. The victim was a nineteen-year old college student. Her name has not been released to the public yet, though the Chicago police department did state that she was a Croatian national and possibly the twelfth victim of the serial killer who has become known as 'Citizen X'..."  
  
Luka switched the radio off and pulled over. For a long time, he just sat there, stunned. He told himself that he had saved Danijela Draskovic tonight-that even though he'd not noticed anyone unusual in the club, there was no way of being sure the killer had not been hunting tonight. But he still felt that he'd failed.   
  
Now, he truly understood why Sky wanted to risk everything to stop this monster. He didn't agree with her methods, but at least now he could see why she felt this way. Suddenly, he was seeing the world through Sky's eyes, and what he saw sent a chill down his spine.  
  
  
To be continued... 


End file.
